


How We Get There

by gr8escap



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amputee Bucky Barnes, BuckyNat Mini-Bang, Depression, F/M, Homophobic Language, Implied Sexual Content, Mention Of Suicide Attempt, Past Kidnapping, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Underage, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 08:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10434087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap
Summary: When Bucky needs to get from Chicago to California, Steve remembers Natasha’s dream to drive across country along Historic Route 66. He sets them up for the drive, hoping it will give Bucky the inspiration he needs to move on from the motorcycle hit and run that cost him his arm, and changed his outlook on life. If anything can, he knows that an extended road trip with Natasha who will likely drag Bucky into every tourist trap along the way, just might do the trick.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suicide attempt is mentioned a multiple times and past underage sexual abuse is implied (does not happen between main characters)

Steve watched as his friend paced the floor in front of the window to their shared apartment. The idea he’d just tossed out to Bucky hadn’t sunk in yet, but Steve was confident that in order for Bucky to get to Stanford, this was the best solution. All of the money Bucky had saved had gone for medical bills after the motorcycle _accident_ , more of a hit and run, really. Bucky had already been accepted, now if he could just get there.

“Listen Buck. I’m fine with giving Nat money for gas. If she’s willing to drive, why not take advantage of the situation?”

“I don’t know her, she doesn’t like me,” Bucky ticked off the items before whirling on Steve, “and how is it fair to make her drive all the way from Chicago to California and back again? That’s just… it’s stupid Steve.”

“I’m crushed.” Steve sat back on the sofa, folding his arms dramatically, the video game they had been playing when he suggested it all but forgotten. “What I expected from a guy with a scholarship to Stanford wasn’t “this is stupid” when clearly it was damned clever.”

“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself Rogers.”

At least the pacing stopped. Steve watched the shadow creep across Bucky’s face again. “Bucky, you’ve been looking forward to this since you were twelve. You took two years to recover, how much longer do you think you’re going to need?”

“I just don’t want her doing it because she feels sorry for me. I can’t stand pity, especially hate-pity. Tell me again why she would do this?”

“Nat’s always dreamed of doing the historic route 66 thing, and she told me that when she got that car, that was the first step. I’m not going to be the one to drive cross-country with her, but she doesn’t want to do it alone.”

Bucky considered Steve’s colossal motion sickness, “I’m not much protection.”

“You’re going to need her protection.” Steve laughed, “If you think that woman needs protecting, you’ve clearly…”

“Never met her. How is it she dislikes me so much if I’ve never met her? What do you tell her about me?”

“She doesn’t hate you. She just doesn’t understand _why I_ like you.”

“Well I guess we have one thing in common then.” Bucky flopped down on the sofa next to Steve. “Why do you like me?”

“I’m required by law. It’s the platonic clause to common law marriage.”

“Oh? Because of our shared history? Growing up in each other’s back pockets makes you obligated to like me? I never got the handbook and I can’t stand you. So. There’s that.”

“Liar.” Steve shoved at Bucky with a smirk.

Steve’s grin when Bucky said “Call her” was so smug, it nearly compensated for Bucky’s pout. It almost drew him out of the funk of the day too. Bucky was deeply indebted to Steve for the way he’d stuck with him over the past two years. When Bucky’s parents could no longer help him financially, Steve stepped up, just as they had for Steve when his mother had passed when they were in middle school. “You can just call it the world righting itself.” Steve had said when Bucky complained.

The world still hadn’t righted itself, but things were getting closer. Sure, his arm would never _grow back_ , but it’s not as if he got into Stanford on a sports scholarship. Getting the scholarship reinstated was the first – ok second – step to righting things. Steve being the best friend in the history of friendships was probably the first. He would suck it up and ride for days across country with this friend of Steve’s, not out of pride, but because he owed it to Steve.

…

“She’s on her way.” Steve announced, causing Bucky’s gut to twist. He was going farther from home than he’d ever been. Home being wherever someone he loved was living.

“Can I back out? I’m not sure I can live alone Steve.”

“No you cannot back out. Of course you can live alone, besides, it’s only until January when the lease here is up. I’ll be showing up on your door, ready for trouble. Speaking of which, don’t give Nat too much trouble ok? Stop thinking she hates you. She can’t hate you.”

“Yeah, cos I’m so loveable.” Bucky tried to pull out of the dark fear that was threatening to drag him down again. “Ok, right.”

Bucky looked at the three boxes he was taking with him, plus the gym bag that contained most of his clothes. “I sure travel light.”

Steve’s frown spoke volumes; Bucky had sold or given away everything he owned 18 months ago, leaving the cash in an envelope on Steve’s bed. He still hadn’t embraced the things that had brought him joy before the crash. He’d only replaced the essentials and all of that fit into these three mediocre boxes.

“Promise you’ll pick up something stupid at one or more of your stops, it’ll make for a fun Instagram post, at the very least.” Steve said, nudging Bucky’s shoulder.

“Like a stupid plastic snow globe? Or a dorky thermometer magnet?”

“Exactly.” Steve answered as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He stooped down to grab two of the boxes, “She’s here.”

Bucky tossed the strap of his bag over his shoulder before taking one box from Steve and holding it to his body with his right arm. He watched nervously as Steve grabbed the last box. “Steve, if we’re murdered on the side of the road, I want you to know, it was your fault.”

“Fuck you.” Steve laughed at Bucky’s lame attempt at humor, not giving his nerves any consideration. “But keep the tracking on your phone on, so we can find your bodies.”

“I keep tellin ya; go to one of those open mic nights. You’re a funny fucker Steve.”

“I gotta lay it on thick, you’re not gonna see me for a while.”

“There’s text, social media, and skype, if you get lonely.” Bucky followed Steve up the stairs from the basement apartment. Their familiar banter had gotten him this far, not long and they’d be on the sidewalk. As it was Bucky was willing each foot forward, anxiety crowding him and making him feel sick the further he got from his _home_.

Bucky stood back as Steve and Natasha greeted one another, she took a box and stuffed it into the trunk of her convertible, a clean black Oldsmobile 442, he’d seen that car a few times at the library, he’d even looked it over a time or two, and he’d recognize the red stripe and the custom wheels anywhere. He wasn’t listening to their conversation as Steve put the other box into the trunk next to the first.

Steve turned to take the last box from Bucky, “Nat, this is Bucky, Bucky, Natasha.”

“Hi.” Bucky made eye contact, pale green eyes assessed him, “Thank you for doing this, I…” Bucky scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand before pulling the strap to the bag over his head to hand to Steve, “It really means a lot.”

“Nice to meet you.” She smiled. In spite of the catlike nature of her posture and her eyes, her smile wasn’t feral, in fact, Bucky thought it was rather warm. She took the bag and fit it into the trunk between his boxes and a bag that must have held her own clothes for the trip. “Steve has told me a lot about you.”

‘Obviously nothing good’, Bucky thought. “He speaks highly of you.” Bucky felt awkward standing around, letting them, letting her, do for him.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long, I stopped and filled her up before I got here, figured it was going to eat into travel time either way.”

“No, not at all.” Bucky stood by the passenger door to the car, watching Steve watch their uncomfortable attempt at playing nice. “I was just zipping my bag when Steve started gathering boxes and your text came.”

“Hey, Rogers, any chance we can con you into coming along after all?”

“You wouldn’t like me as a passenger.” Steve blanched at the thought. “It’s gonna have to be the two of you.”

“How did you get him from Brooklyn to Chicago?” Natasha asked Bucky.

“Drugs.” Bucky shrugged. “He was still a mess.”

“There, see? You both have something to talk about now.” Steve blushed, opening the passenger door and looking at Bucky. He wasn’t going to worry about Bucky and his dark moods, he knew Nat could keep him entertained. He had faith she’d be able to give him space when he needed it too, something he had lost the objectivity to do.

“Thanks for everything Stevie.” Bucky hesitated at the edge of the car’s door, one red sneaker traced the seam between the curb and the sidewalk.

Steve pulled him into a hug, “In case your dire prediction comes true.”

Bucky held tight for what could be considered _too long_. There were dude-hug rules, after all, but this was no dude, this was his brother. “It could be worse, I could make it all the way to California.”

“Oh we’re making it, Santa Monica, and then Stanford – end of the line Barnes.” Natasha said from behind Steve’s shoulder.

Steve turned to Nat, “Thanks for doing this. Who will ride back with you?”

“I’m taking the shortcut home. I won’t need a body guard.”

He pulled her into a hug, “I know that, like I told Bucky here, you’ll be protecting him from things that go bump in the night.”

“Damned right too.” Natasha smirked, pulling Steve into an embrace of her own, “You call Sam or Sharon and go out – do something while we’re gone. Don’t lock yourself up in that basement making “art” or whatever.”

“I’ll be busy, don’t you worry about me. Is that thing up for the trip?” Steve poked a thumb toward the Olds.

“You’re kidding, right? That’s my baby. She’ll do just fine, thank you very much.”

“Well, Bucky knows a thing or two about cars _too_ so if you need him to do something, ask nice.”

“Don’t let him kid you, I’m not too good with tire changes. That’s more of – well, let’s just say if you need a third hand, I’m your man.” Bucky hugged Steve one more time, “you do what she says, don’t “lose track of time” If I gotta see some sun, so do you.”

“Get in the car Buck.” Steve chuckled. “I’ll check in with you, if you check in with me.”

Natasha gunned the engine as soon as the door was closed, leaving Bucky with an awkward wave to Steve as he pulled the seatbelt over his shoulder. “Bye Steve!” Nat called over her shoulder.

“So, road rules?” Bucky eventually asked as the car joined the flow of freeway traffic.

“None of that ‘this car’s a hunk’, crap that Steve likes to pull. That’s rule one. Find something you can tolerate on the radio’s fine with me, if I don’t like it, I reserve the right to veto. Don’t be weird. If you have to stop, just say so and don’t complain if I stop. A girl drinks as much coffee as I have, a girl’s gonna have to pee.”

“Sounds fair.” Bucky nodded, looking at the passing city. “So, Route 66 huh? A fan of the song? Really into Pixar’s Cars?”

“No, it’s classic. It’s just something I’ve wanted to do for almost as long as I can remember. There’s something iconic about driving a classic car down the historic highway. There is something so emotionally satisfying in the idea that it’s not where you’re going but how you get there. Oh, and I’m going to stop for cheesy photo ops, so deal with that.”

“If you’ll entertain a little diversion, I won’t even roll _one eye_ at your cheesy photo ops.”

“Sounds like a high price.” Nat looked at Bucky briefly, before returning her eyes to the road, looking for a place to park for her first photo op. “I’m listening.”

“In Flagstaff, which is on route, I’d like to stop at the observatory.”

Nat parallel parked with ease, and turned to look at Bucky, popping a bubble, “We can do that, as long as there’s not a single eye rolled, _and_ you're my designated photographer.”

“Might as well.” Bucky shrugged. “Steve’s gonna be expecting Instagram updates from both of us.”

“First stop, that sign. I know, big deal, right?”

“They put it clear up there because of theft right? Clearly that’s not placed for photographic ease.”

“I guess, but if we do it right, we should get something worthwhile.”

“You gonna climb the post?” Bucky asked as he got out of the car. Nat stopped at the front fender and crooked her finger.

“Nope, you’re going to stand in front of the car, and let me know if you can get this shot.”

Nat sat on the fender of her car like a cat, and Bucky crouched down, catching the headlight, Natasha, with the “Begin Route 66” sign in the distance.

“Well, I think it’s ok, but you’re gonna want to check.” Bucky handed the phone to Natasha and made a concerted effort _not_ to lean on her car.

Nat looked at the shots he took, “you’ll do. Your turn, you said Rogers would want some updates. He’s such a mother.”

“You ain’t kidding.” Bucky stood awkwardly next to the car as Nat situated herself roughly where he’d been when he took the picture.

“Come on Barnes, ham it up. You look like you were dragged off the street.”

Bucky rolled his wrist against his hip, pulling the hair tie that was around his wrist down over his hand. He flipped it between a couple of fingers and tugged his hair back, “Hang on.” He turned so he couldn’t see her watching him, and used his arm to hold his hair in place while he tightened the hair tie. He tugged on the ponytail before turning back, “what do you mean ham it up? I’m not…”

“You don’t screw around with Steve? Taking weird pics and stuff?”

“Most of our photos are pretty candid, him sneaking up on me at weird times, when I have food in my mouth, shit like that.”

“You have any idols? You know, musicians or something? You can imitate someone cool. Be a hot rod babe.” Nat teased.

Bucky stepped toward the car, still remotely terrified of what she’d do if he touched it.

“Go on you know you want to. Give us your best car girl pose. Uh-You said no eye rolling.” Nat shook her finger at him with a teasing grin.

“I said I wouldn’t roll my eyes at _your cheesy photo ops_. Not this.”

Natasha laughed, and approached Bucky. “Hip here.” She guided him toward the car, “Just lean on the front end, be casual, flirt with your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Bucky smirked, unaware she was taking pictures already.

“Boyfriend?”

Bucky laughed, “You’d be surprised, people think Steve and I – but no. Straight and pathetic.”

Nat crossed the space and handed him the phone, “Well?”

“I don’t look too pathetic.” Bucky agreed. “Thanks. I guess I should post this so Worry Wart can see we got off to a good start.”

“Hold up, selfie. We should prove we haven’t killed each other. You know? You’re not half as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“Why? I thought he said good things.”

“Too good. It’s like he’s in love with you or something. Steve’s not harboring a crush is he?”

“Nah. He’s just – We’ve been friends since kindergarten, and I’ve given him a pretty rough two years. Maybe he’s just reminding himself.” Bucky frowned. “So, selfie huh?”

“Not with that face, is that the face he sees most often? What a downer.”

“What? This is my face, what am I supposed to do? Oh, I know, you get in front of me, he’ll recognize the top of my head. I’ll squat down really low.”

“If that’s a height comment, you’d better be fast on your feet.”

“Is that the chink in your armor Natasha?”

“You wish, Barnes.” Natasha said, snapping the picture. “Perfect, your face is priceless.”

“Yeah, I guarantee you, no body part is priceless.”

She turned to see if he looked as fierce as he sounded as he walked away. He was careful getting into her car, but she thought if he were a little less intimidated by her, for whatever reason, he would have flung himself dramatically into the seat.

“I’ll bet you have figures for everything. Steve says you’re good with numbers.” She offered a change of subject, crossing in front of the car. “Does that translate to miles and maps?”

“I can navigate.” Bucky responded, looking out his side of the car at the brick building.

“Cool. Did you eat? Are you good til we get to the next town? I didn’t even think to ask; you’re ok with diner grub and stuff right? Cos there are a lot of roadside eats I want to check out.”

“You mean do I have food issues? That’s just Steve, his allergies are so limiting. No, I’m really game for greasy grub. Whenever you’re ready to eat is fine with me.”

“You two are so different, how did you meet?”

“Our moms were neighbors and became good friends.” Bucky didn’t look away from the row of buildings as Nat pulled onto the street.

“Smile, this is officially the start. It’s bad luck to pout.”

“You’re superstitious too?”

“Aren’t you? I was hoping it would force the cloud from over your head. Come on, new horizons and all that.”

“You’re the one.” Bucky grumbled. He tugged the hood over his head. “You’re the life coach or whatever you want to call it. Every time Steve says something motivational, it comes from you.”

“You don’t give your friend the benefit of the doubt? He has a pretty sound mind, you know.”

“What’s the story with you guys? He sweet on you? You sweet on him?”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys.”

“What guys?”

“You know, the ones who think a girl has to be the _girlfriend_. Or the unrequited love interest.”

“No, just… Ok, that was shallow. Sorry.” Bucky stuck his foot up on the dash, and immediately realized what he’d done, removed it, and hurried to wipe away any marks with the cuff of his sleeve. “Shit, sorry.”

“You can.” Natasha shrugged, “We have a long drive, if you want to put your feet up.”

“No, I’m good.” Bucky answered automatically.

She turned the music up and spared him brief glances only when checking her mirrors, Steve was right, he was really good at withdrawing. He was also very apprehensive and far too apologetic. The silence ordinarily wouldn’t bother her, but she was excited about her trip and rather than wishing it were Steve along for the ride, she wanted to draw out the fun side that she knew had to be under the long hair, dark circles and defensive clothing.

It was promising to be a warm day, and she had opted to leave her hoodie in the back of the car. He was bundled up as though there was going to be a chill. She supposed he could be uncertain of the wind while driving in the convertible, but he seemed to wear it as armor. He was even hidden behind the hood, his hurried ponytail hidden as well as most of his face.

The silence and her excitement and anticipation proved to be too much. She put on one of the more annoying songs in her playlist. ‘Let’s see if he takes me up on switching the music.’

Bucky listened to _Mambo No. 5_ with a slight cringe, but he’d heard the song _so many times_ he knew how to tune it out. The wind whipped his hoodie back as they flew down the highway. “You said something about navigating.” Bucky said, perhaps a bit too loudly over the sound of the road and the air surrounding them. “Don’t you have gps? Or you know, that fancy phone?”

“There’s a list of turns we’re going to have to make, some parts of this road are impassable, and I don’t know, but something tells me your smarts and eyes on what’s actually here might be more reliable than a computerized map.”

“In other words, you’re humoring me because of Steve.”

“You know, Barnes, not everything is about you, or about him.” The song changed to something tolerable and they rode surrounded by the air rushing past, and the music.

She thought maybe he’d been chased out of his shell by the song and the wind, but no, he was right back there, hiding under the crimson hood again. “Listen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

No answer came from the passenger seat. He sat with his feet flat on the floorboard and his fist on his knee, every so often he’d pick at the seam on his black jeans. They matched, their clothes and her car, the trio were all black and red, which made her smile. Halfway through the Morning View album that was shuffling random songs, she tried her next ‘annoy Barnes’ song tactic.

Bucky rolled his eyes behind his wayfarers when _‘Get Ready for This’_ started pumping out of the upgraded stereo. He wished the car had the original push-button and dial radios. Would it have been AM/FM? Or would it be AM only? Her trimmed nails thumping along against the steering wheel didn’t motivate him to like it, but it kept him from saying anything derogatory.

He watched the state roll by as more songs played out. Stuck in his own head, Bucky couldn’t find the energy to appreciate the view, he didn’t want this. He wanted to go home, curl up on the sofa, get trounced by Steve in another video game. He didn’t care that his intellect wasn’t being challenged; he just wanted to be safe. He didn’t want to be on some rogue adventure right now. Maybe he could go back to school next semester when Steve was ready to leave Chicago.

His fingers itched to dig his phone out and call his best friend for – for what though – was it reassurance? Or permission? If he couldn’t answer the question, he wasn’t going to stumble through a phone call that would be overheard.

Bucky was dragged from his thoughts by the car coming to a stop in the parking lot of The Launching Pad, an abandoned roadside drive-in with a giant fiberglass “astronaut” in green, looking the place over. “Let me guess? Photo op?”

Natasha would have laughed at the tone, so sulky. “Well, we’re not here for burgers, and that’s a shame too.”

He was impressed, she sounded truly put out by it. She really was serious about this road trip, including roadside eats. It was too bad she couldn’t take her maiden voyage with someone who wanted to be there.

He climbed out of the car, fully aware he was going to have to take a picture, if not be coerced into another selfie. The 30’ Gemini Giant smiled eerily down at them from behind his dildo shaped helmet. He was holding a giant rocket, which was no less phallic. Bucky rolled his eyes.

He watched Nat do a catlike stretch before _bouncing_ across the asphalt. “I’ll buy lunch in about 15 minutes, if you take the prerequisite selfies you _know_ Steve’s gonna want.”

“I thought that was already part of the contract.” Bucky replied. “You want your souped up baby in these shots too?”

“I’ll get a couple, mostly the giant. There’s three on our trip, two are here in Illinois – so get ready – and one in Arizona, I think Flagstaff, where your observatory is.”

He heard her as she hurried ahead of him. Bucky was aware that their energy was vastly different. He felt bad about it, but couldn’t bring himself to feel her thrill. A rundown drive-in and a ghastly looking creepy statue did not excite him. He wondered what the place down the road had to offer and just hoped it wasn’t as scary looking as this place. Of course, he could see this place had been closed a long time, but he still wondered about the food that might come from the tiny wood-shingled building with faded yellow letters across its face.

Natasha didn’t goad or tease Bucky into photos this time, but she did tug his hood off just in time for their selfie. She guessed the probability that he would insolently tug it back up was pretty good, but not before the shutter got his full face and shining chestnut hair. “Let’s make the appropriate terrified reactions to his creepy face.” She laughed.

“First thing you’ve said that I agree with. He’s a creepy fucker.” Bucky looked up at the odd stare and flat smile, “I’m not sure about acting over the top though.”

“Your current creeped out face is perfect.”

She was laughing at him and he knew he ought to laugh too, but it was so eerie looking up at this masked thing in scrubs green. Somehow, it brought back drugged up memories of the hospital, putting him in pre-panic mode. Laughing wasn’t in the cards.

Natasha snapped the picture and inspected it, expecting him to pull a flat, vague stare. Instead, she looked from the phone to Bucky and grabbed his arm. She tugged him toward the car and leaned him against the front fender. “You pass out on me, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky shook his head.

“You’re white as a sheet, that’s not fine. You didn’t eat this morning did you? Dammit Barnes, you should have _said_ _something when I asked_.”

“It’s not that.” Bucky gulped air, shaking his head, hoping to assuage her fear and clear his head, “It’s just – it’s just me.”

“Bullshit.” Natasha said gruffly under her breath.

“I’m fine. Let’s get the rest of your pictures. I’d hate to be the reason you're missing pictures of Astro Creep and – what’s your car’s name? You named her, right?”

“Charlotte.”

“What?” Bucky did a double take. “Charlotte? As in Princess Charlotte?”

“No stupid, as in Charlotte’s web. I was gonna name her something cool and menacing like Black Widow or something but my dad said it was too creepy naming a death machine after a deadly spider. So, I went with Charlotte.”

“Your dad’s right. No naming death machines after deadly things. It might be bad luck.”

“So, you’re sure you’re alright?”

“Thought you’d already called bullshit.” Bucky grumbled, pulling his armor back into place by putting his hood on.

“Suit yourself.” She grinned before snapping a picture of him against the car, in front of the Gemini Giant. She didn’t even care that his face was still white, serves him right for being obtuse. “You coming or not?”

“I could just hitch back to Chicago.” Bucky grumbled, feeling the car settle slightly as she sat in the driver’s seat.

“Y’ could.” She agreed before starting the car and revving the engine under the hood where his elbow rested.

She was impressed that he didn’t jump. He did curse under his breath before pushing off from the car’s hood and walking around the door. Natasha watched as he put his feet flat on the floor again, buckling in like a regular boy scout, and pulled the door closed. She was still getting used to the time it took for him to get in or out, but she supposed it was because she just kept forgetting he only had the one arm. That was good, right? She didn’t back the car up until the door was secure, not wanting to appear to rush him.

Clearly, she was going to have to up her annoying song game if she was going to pull him out from under that hood. She found _YMCA_ and turned it up as she squealed her tires out of the abandoned parking lot.

Bucky was still queasy from the flashback. Or maybe he was hungry. The music was grating, ordinarily he wouldn’t mind the upbeat disco song, but he clenched his fist repeatedly before rubbing his hand across his thigh.

Natasha thought he would break and switch it when he sucked in a deep breath as the Glee cast version of _Don’t Stop Believin’_ started. She was ready for him to switch the music, and she was ready to veto whatever he chose just to get a reaction. She wasn’t ready for him to let it play through. She kinda wanted to punch him in the arm for letting it continue. She felt her face flush when she realized she’d be hitting him in the – would you say ‘injured arm’? – if she did punch him. Ok, so maybe if he ever voluntarily talked to her she’d ask him the dos and don’ts of talking about it or thinking about it. Moreover, maybe she should ask what would happen to him if she did punch him in that arm for making her listen to this song.

She grinned when the song switched over, because the previous song had almost backfired on her, but she’d made it through, and because the next one was going to be fun.

“Yeah…” Nat began dramatically. She proceeded to sing with enthusiasm, singing _to Bucky_ as though she were a member of the band, in a music video. She was _going to crack this nut._

You are my fire  
The one desire  
Believe when I say  
I want it that way

But we are two worlds apart  
Can't reach to your heart  
When you say  
That I want it that way

Tell me why  
Ain't nothin' but a heartache  
Tell me why  
Ain't nothin' but a mistake

Tell me why  
I never wanna hear you say  
I want it that way

Am I your fire  
Your one desire  
Yes I know it's too late  
But I want it that way

Tell me why  
Ain't nothin' but a heartache  
Tell me why  
Ain't nothin' but a mist…

“Could you not?” Bucky finally cut in, “How can you safely drive doing that? What the hell?”

“You don’t like it? You could switch the music.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t like much.”

“I think you believe that, but I don’t. I’ve seen you almost smile more than once. You even almost enjoyed The Village People.”

“Fuck that.” Bucky said, looking straight ahead.

“Hey look, there it is.” Natasha pointed at the big black and white sign.

Bucky saw the “Polka-Dot Drive-in” and heaved an obvious sigh of relief. The building was clearly older, but the white exterior was promising. Natasha grinned as she pulled into the lot and parked in front of another goofy statue, this one was much smaller, maybe life-sized instead of larger than life, and it was a statue of Elvis.

“You up for eating? You still look pale.”

“That’s just my face.” Bucky grumbled. He wondered if she noticed his stomach grumbling too, but didn’t see any reaction from her. “Yeah, I could probably eat.”

The inside of the building was a huge relief and another giant tourist trap. It was sparkling and white, with records across the wall above them as they made their way to the order counter. The prerequisite bubble jukebox lined one wall, and Bucky matched his pace to the checkerboard black and white tile squares.

He bumped into Natasha when she stopped in front of him, “Sorry, wasn’t watching where I was going.” Bucky said, looking at the curve of her ear from behind her, glad she couldn’t see his face. Even though he was sure he didn’t look as pale now.

“I wasn’t either, just look at this place!” He could tell she was smiling. “I’m getting a big ole burger, what sounds good to you?”

“Chicken, I guess. Chicken tenders and fries.”

“You want a shake? I’m getting one. Don’t think I’m about to share it either, even if this place looks like a one milkshake two straws kind of joint.”

“Sure, yeah.” Bucky unzipped his hoodie and looked around some more, the glass blocks that made up the dividing wall, and the clean, sparkling chrome tables and chairs helped keep the place from appearing too dark. He looked back when she touched his shoulder and saw she was looking at him expectantly, “Um, peanut butter cup.”

“If you’re not feeling well,” Natasha amended her comment when the look on his face showed he was about to argue, prideful men, anyway. “Hey, why don’t you grab us a table, one by the window if you’d like.”

He would, very much. The double rows of tables down the small alcove looked too closed in for his tastes, even though the walls were filled with interesting photos and news clippings of 50’s TV and radio stars. He supposed, after eating, he should be nice and offer to take whatever kitschy photos she wanted here too.

Looking around the little fast-food joint from his seat facing the door, Bucky saw people coming in, stepping up behind Natasha, other cars started pulling up to the little white building. They beat the rush. A little girl twirled up to the jukebox. She peered in, skimming through the records before plunking her quarter in. Bucky was going to be disappointed if there was a modern song that came out.

The machine clicked and whirred the record into place, he watched as the girl peered through the glass, and _Beyond the Sea_ started. Ok, cool. Corny song, but not disappointing. Watching the girl dance away from the jukebox and nearly collide with Natasha, who was definitely sauntering across the floor, infected by the swinging tune. She grinned and got down level with the girl. He assumed she was reassuring her everything was fine.

He wasn’t sure where this hard-as-nails, hates everyone and everything opinion of her came from. Steve would say he was projecting his own depression and bad attitude. Maybe he was right.

“You don’t look as pale. I thought Steve was the one with monstrous motion sickness?”

“I.” Bucky felt the color flood his face, no, not pale. “Have you ever been high?”

“You a cop?” She teased. “Yes, I have. You pop something while I wasn’t looking?”

“No, it’s not that. Sometimes I get these weird flashbacks to the trauma unit when I woke up, and today’s was just a little worse than usual. That creepy statue looked like one of my drugged out visions of the trauma docs.”

“Weird.”

“I know.”

Bucky started to withdraw again, she shouldn’t have used that word, “I didn’t mean you were, just yeah, I guess I can see it, with his obscured face and green suit. It used to be red or something if I remember my google images. Maybe a red space suit would have been less traumatizing.”

“I still see it, I’m afraid it’s going to be in my nightmares.”

“If you don’t want to stop at the other two, I mean the next guy’s just a big hot dog glutton and the dude in Arizona is a college mascot.”

“No, we’ll do them. They’re on your list, your clearly weird list.”

“You do know this is day one of several days. You might want to wait until you see exactly how weird it’s gonna get.” Their number was called from the counter and she hurried to get their order.

He felt rude not offering to go, but knowing the amount of food, including milkshakes, and the milling kids dancing around where the foot traffic was, he could only imagine a collision like Nat had already experienced, only with him balancing an awkward tray full of sticky chaos.

She came back with their food, “Looks good enough to eat.” She said as she snagged a fry from the tray and sat back in her seat.

“I’ll spring for the next meal. I don’t feel good about you and Steve paying my way.”

“Listen, I don’t mind. Before you say anything about pity or charity shut it. I want this trip; I’ve been planning it and imagining it. I know there’ll be some disappointing moments because it’s romanticized, so many places are closed, and all the good stuff is condensed in a few pages on the internet. I still want it. I don’t want to do it by myself. I would pay for _everything_ just because I’m glad I don’t have to do it solo. Steve covered at least half the gas because he wants you to go to Stanford.”

“You must have other friends besides Steve and Sam who would do this with you. You didn’t have to let Steve con you.” Bucky dunked his fry into the ketchup cup before popping it into his mouth.

“Nobody could con me. I have friends, but you know what? The only ones who would go with me are Steve or Sam. But Steve won’t for obvious reasons, and Sam’s busy with school and the national guard. You heard all the negative stuff I qualified a minute ago, right?” Nat talked and ate simultaneously with a passion, taking bites, pausing between sentences and questions.

“Yeah. Their excuses?” Bucky took a bite from one of the chicken strips, watching her as she continued to be animated in her response.

“Something like that. I’m not sure when it became a thing for me, but it’s been there for as long as I can remember. I bought that car and did all the work on it myself with this as a goal.”

“I remember that sense of urgency. I built my bike because I wanted one. I collected parts from junkyards, stashed them, and kept a running inventory until I had enough parts to become a whole.”

“Do you think you’ll ever ride one?” She took a sip from her milkshake, “again, I mean.”

“Not sure. At first, I swore I wouldn’t. But I swore I wouldn’t do a lot of things at first. It’s not the bike, it’s the driver, I haven’t decided to shun all drivers.” Bucky spooned chunks of peanut butter cups from his shake, “I’ve been a pedestrian a lot since it happened, and haven’t been run down again. Maybe lightning doesn’t strike twice?”

“I want to ask, what are the rules? You know? Do you talk about it, is it taboo?”

“I don’t like to, it’s not a discussion that goes anywhere, I was riding in the dark, in the rain, and was run down. I know all of those things, but I don’t remember any of them. There was a couple walking on the other side of the street, they saw the impact, but it happened too fast for them to say much other than “dark Toyota, Honda, something similar”. If they hadn’t been there I wouldn’t be here.”

Nat saw the pain cross his features, Steve had told her pretty much all of that. She had met Steve at the gym about a year ago, just when he was starting to feel overwhelmed by Bucky’s depression, and she had to admit she didn’t have many charitable feelings toward Bucky. That was her error.

“Those kids are as curious about the arm as you are.” Bucky smiled. She thought he had a nice smile, even if it was fleeting. “You can ask about that too.”

“I have a confession.”

Bucky looked up from the fry he was stirring ketchup around with, “you’re blushing? You? This ought to be good.”

“Shut up.” Nat flicked a fry across the table, it bounced across his side of the Formica, and landed in his lap. “It should be obvious to you that I was trying to annoy you out of your funk, right?”

“You mean those musical turds weren’t on your list of favorites? Good. I might survive this road trip. That’s your confession? I’m disappointed.”

“No, but when you let the Glee version of Journey’s great song play on, I thought about slugging you in the shoulder. But then I realized…” her cheeks pinked up again, “That would be shitty.”

“Fuck no. Steve and I do that all the time. Ooh…” Bucky looked from her face, to where her gaze rested, on his left arm. “I have a left shoulder, you can hit it. You mean because I’m _disabled_?”

“I mean because I don’t know what kind of damage you’ve sustained and what kind of pain it would cause. You’re an ass.”

Bucky slurped his milkshake, nodding in agreement. “So, what did you tell that little kid?”

“I apologized for bumping into her and told her I liked her song choice, I also asked if she was a ballerina.”

“Nice. She seemed to appreciate it. I thought you were reassuring her, taking the blame is pretty cool.”

“Thanks Barnes.”

Bucky could hear the kids’ questions and the parents’ uncomfortable answers “stop staring and be quiet.” Natasha laughed when he rolled his eyes. “Kids aren’t the problem.” He muttered. One of the kids saw him looking in their direction, and instead of hiding, he bravely crossed the space between the jukebox and their table.

“Were you born with just one arm?” he asked – without hesitation or introduction. He reminded Bucky of Steve, except for the hair.

“No, I had two for a long time. That got boring.” Bucky felt Natasha’s foot against his in a warning kick, he grinned. “Do you ever suck your arm into your shirt and flap the sleeve around?”

“Is that what you did?” The kid’s eyes grew wide but not before Nat’s foot made contact with his shin.

“Nah, but it’s cool right? Sometimes both arms?” Bucky unpinned the sleeve of his hoodie and let it flop, before waving it around, “I lost the arm in a really bad wreck. It was too injured so they had no choice.”

“Wow.” The kid stood there for a second with his hands buried deep in his pockets. “I bet that hurt.”

“You’re right. Hey, you wanna do me a favor?”

“Sure.” The kid turned his whole body to look toward his family, who were at the counter ordering.

Bucky shoved his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of change. “Are those your sisters and brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you could each pick a song as good as the last one?”

“’ course.” The kid dug his hands out of his pockets and held them cupped to receive the quarters Bucky had. “Just pick the songs? That’s all?”

“Sure. I trust you.”

He saw the smirk Natasha must have thought she’d hidden. He was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a regular occurrence.

“What?” Bucky asked as _Blue Suede Shoes_ started playing, “I’m not an ogre.”

“Not in front of kids anyway.” Natasha answered. “Who carries a pocketful of quarters around? Old men that’s who.”

“Or smart people who might expect to only find a pop machine outside some gas station instead of an actual working store somewhere down the road. The problem is I can only carry half as many. The other pocket is too hard to get into.”

“Speaking of soda, there’s this soda place in Oklahoma, we’re stocking up.”

“Of course there is.” Bucky muttered before slurping the last of his milkshake out of the bottom of the cup. “Did you bring a cooler? Stocking up on sodas just to have warm pop isn’t that great of an idea.”

“Of course I did. You honestly question my intelligence? I told you I’ve planned this. The only thing I’m not sure of now is the extreme tree climbing and zipline experience. I kinda think you need two good arms for that.”

“Or better strength in the good one, if they did let me participate.” Bucky considered. You’re serious, aren’t you? I could hang out and video the thing from below.”

Natasha watched him as he popped the last piece of chicken into his mouth, she’d been teasing about the excursion, but another zip line experience could still be a possibility. “I’m ok, there’s another zip line place we can hit, it’s after Flagstaff. You can start going to the gym and building your strength, maybe when you go back home to help get Steve on the plane, we can make the trip again.”

“I’m not signing up for this drive in the winter. I’ll stay in California and you or Sam can get him on a plane. You ready to do the photo ops? I know you’re dying for it.”

“Yeah, let’s do that and hit the road.” Nat watched as he gathered the food wrappers and tray before she could grab it. “You want a soda before we head out?”

“Yeah, let’s get the pictures done first, that way we don’t have to juggle drinks and poses.”

He followed Nat to the jukebox first, and then around to the row of tables he’d opted not to utilize. She posed in front of the gas pump full of gumballs, and squished herself into the red kids’ ride-on car that was emblazoned with orange flames licking around its fenders. She did one of those “hot rod” poses she’d tried to get him to do first thing, and laughed heartily before reaching for the phone, “Come on, you have to be in some of these.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, and his neck, disappointed in himself for not being able to get out of it. “Ok fine, but _only_ with big E over there.” He pointed at the rocking Elvis statue in the corner.

“I suppose that’s fair. Wait… would you, if I can get someone to take one, do _one picture_ of the two of us dancing in front of the jukebox?”

“After I hit the head.” Bucky agreed quickly, “Go find your photographer, and get me a coke.”

“Yessir.” Nat saluted him, poorly.

“Don’t do that.” Bucky shook his head. “That’s so wrong.”

She laughed as he ducked behind the door that said “t-birds” on it and decided that was a good plan.

Bucky looked around for Natasha after he finished in the _over-decorated_ restroom. He almost laughed when she came out of the “pink ladies” door.

“Sorry, you had a good idea. Let’s do this.”

He watched her happily bounce toward the counter in step to the music. He wondered if she was ever down, or knew what it was like to be tired just from seeing something like that.

Of course, she would have down moments, he reasoned, but this was her dream trip, and someone was with her, taking pictures, allowing her to have her fun. Why be down now?

He hated doing it, didn’t want to be in anybody’s face, but while she was waiting for their drinks, Bucky asked an approachable looking guy if he’d take a couple of pictures of him and his friend before they hit the road.

“Sure thing, that your girl? Lucky.”

Bucky just shrugged, lucky enough to have her to look at instead of watching the guy look at his missing arm. “Yeah, I’m lucky. Thanks for doing it. She’s really hyped about all this photo op stuff.”

Nat came over bearing two cokes, she set them on the closest table when Bucky told her he’d found a photographer. “Ok, Steve told me you used to dance. Would you, just this once, dance with me? That way we don’t have to fake a pose.”

“Yeah,” Bucky groaned. He hadn’t danced since before the accident. First, it was rehab, his leg and pelvis had both been messed up, once he was rehabilitated, he just didn’t have the drive. “I can probably spare one, but… this is a huge but. I haven’t danced in over two years. I don’t know if my body moves that way anymore, and this…” he lifted his arm. “I don’t know what…”

She stopped listening as soon as he brought up the arm, no, he wasn’t going to get any sympathy this time. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him over near the jukebox where the floor had a big “Route 66” emblem embedded in the tile.

“The song isn’t long enough for explanations.” She said, swinging out from him.

He fell into step easily, surprised that his legs and feet cooperated. They danced a little 50’s bop, garnering an audience, and Bucky hoped Nat got at least one picture, because he ducked out of the drive-in before she had a chance to get the phone back from the tall blonde guy who’d agreed to do the honors.

“Hey.” She came up behind him at the car, “You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks.” Bucky pulled his hoodie off and tossed it into the back of the car. “Didn’t think we’d catch quite an audience.”

“We’re a hit.” She smiled, handing him his Coke.

“Yeah, so all of these statues too, right?”

“The Elvi, Marilyn, and Jimmy Dean here. I don’t want to get in the way of the drive-thru with the Blues Brothers, unless you want to take a shot with Jake and Elwood. I’d hold up the drive-thru for ya.”

“If drive-thru is busy, ole Elwood and Jake will have to survive without me.” Bucky shook his head, “Let’s do this.”

As Natasha posed Bucky took the pictures, until a teen girl approached asking if they’d like her to take a picture of both of them. Bucky wanted to decline, but Nat wasn’t having any of it, physically dragging him into the pictures. He felt exposed without the hoodie to cover his arm or at least as a place to bury his face. _Damn the weather for being uncooperative_. Once Natasha was satisfied with the photo op, she thanked the girl.

“You're off the hook for a few miles.” She laughed as Bucky got into the car. She tossed her phone in his lap as she slid into the driver’s seat, “See what you can do with a couple of these for the Instagram report.”

“Yes, the Instagram report.” Bucky sighed, letting the phone slip between his thighs next to his drink cup as he buckled his seatbelt. He picked it up and looked through the pictures. “Did you see the dancing shots? They’re not too bad.”

“I did, you really dance well, and you should start doing that again. It’s a shame to let something like that stay dormant.”

“That’s nice, coming from a pro.”

“I’m not a pro, I’m a personal trainer. I stopped dancing.”

“Yet it’s a shame _for me_ to let it stay dormant?”

“I get paid more to teach than I did to dance.” Nat shrugged, her hair blowing around her face. She brushed it back and tucked it behind her ears, and Bucky watched as the wind blew it loose again. He took a drink of his pop and looked ahead.

The music blasted from the car stereo, playing ABBA of all things. He put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, wondering if this was another shoulder-punch song. He thought it would be interesting to see how far she would let it go again before she decided to follow through with the threat. He scrolled through her playlist and picked _Barbie Girl_. That was much worse than _Waterloo_.

She looked at him as though he’d just kicked a puppy. Whoa that wasn’t a look he’d a. expected, and b. ever wanted to see again. He tried to keep a straight face, to see if she’d let it play through.

It got as far as “Hanky Panky” before she switched to the radio.

Bucky didn’t laugh, but he did ask, “If you don’t like half of these, why do you have them?”

“Annoying music is a great motivator.” She answered with an arched brow. “You want to find something decent? Or just wait until there’s radio silence before we get creative?

“You have so much music on here, it would be impossible to get tired of _most of it_ , but if you want to let the DJ’s pick the playlist for a while, that’s ok with me. How far to the next monstrosity?”

Natasha smiled, “You’re supposed to be the navigator.”

“Didn’t you say you’d planned this? Do tell me there’s an itinerary.” Bucky couldn’t help but look at her with confusion.

“Get my notebook out of the glove compartment and you’ll see my notes about stops and exits. By all means, use my phone for the maps, but I still need backup, in case the damned route changes, unless you like backtracking.”

Bucky wedged the phone under one thigh and opened the glove compartment. It was neat, piled with a couple of notebooks, a document holder, and a pair of driving gloves, of course.

Natasha saw the curve of his lips, she’d caught him smiling, but couldn’t figure out what made the grade. “What?”

“’What’ what?” Bucky furrowed his brows, “Can I leave this open, I’m shorthanded.”

“Really?”

“If I can’t leave the little door open, just tell me.”

“You can’t make that joke and let it pass.” When he just gave her an impassive glare, she relented, “Of course, you don’t have to ask. Kick your shoes off, put up your feet, climb in the back for a nap, as long as I don’t miss any highlighted stops, you’re not just a passenger here.”

“Ok, holy shit, you have a lot of notes.”

“Tagged by travel day. The highlighted ones are musts, in between is a list of suggestions, you can say yay or nay.”

“I should have looked this over while we were eating, this is insane.”

“I know. Listen, I told you…”

“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean _you’re_ insane, the level of research and dedication you put into this is amazing. Do you handle your personal training jobs the same way?”

“I might have lists.”

“That’s where the annoying playlist comes from, isn’t it? What your clients like.”

“Shut up and read the list, stop trying to read me.”

“You’re a nerd.” Bucky said with a soft voice as he turned the page. He read through things like working retro gas stations to fill up at, and roadside attractions. “You really are a nerd, no chain restaurants, or gas stations?”

“We’ll have to hit a modern gas station along the way, but why eat somewhere we can eat every day? Why not make it a little more adventurous?”

“Why not.” Bucky shook his head, still reading. “So, according to this, you’re planning to stop a thousand times.”

“I said you can veto anything not highlighted. Besides, we’re only driving for six hours, we have plenty of time between now and nightfall to get to our first motel.”

“We’re stopping in Missouri, then,” Bucky flipped through the tabbed pages, “You have a bunch of options for the next days, is that just dependent on where we are in our travels?”

“Sort of. I have reservations for each night, but I wasn’t sure if we’d reach them too soon, or too late. We could even change plans. I think if we stick to the reservations, we can still see and do a lot in between.”

“No, you’re right.” Bucky looked at the map, “Did you say you had this plotted on your phone?”

“Yeah, main stops. I knew about Braidwood, but from there, I’m counting on technology and you.” Bucky watched as she drove along the highway, the radio cranked out some good and some not so good music. He almost dozed a couple of times when she pulled off the road to take a picture in front of one of what he guessed would be dozens of Route 66 signs, all artistic, or larger than life. At least she wasn’t taking them of regular roadside signs, because he’d never get to California.

“Come on Barnes, at least look alive.” She called from the side of the road where she was trying to snap a photo of the car with the giant sign in the background.

He slid across the car into the driver’s seat, something he hadn’t done in two years, and turned toward her, leaning on his elbow. “You’re gonna get run over.” He called to her as she took the picture. “I guess you’re gonna want me to do that. I’ll be the one that gets run over.”

She stepped up to the car door, “You’re being dramatic. I’m a good ten feet from the road, and at least six standing out here. Besides, nobody’s coming right now.”

“Like I said, they’re waiting for me. If it happens, tell Steve I loved him. Also, tell him we were wrong, we weren’t murdered on the side of the road.”

She laughed as he swung the door open and slid out. She replaced him on the seat and handed him the phone, “You’re a riot. I’ll send your love. If you promise to toss me my phone before it gets shattered as you hit the ground.”

“Fuck, you’re as bad as he is.” Bucky watched carefully, even though for the moment the road was eerily abandoned. He stepped back and snapped a few pictures, looking around between shots. The last thing he needed was to die the second time the way he couldn’t succeed the first.

He hurried back to the passenger side of the car, “You serious about the nap thing? Isn’t that leaving you to do something irresponsible?”

“You have the mood swings of a toddler, yes, nap. I’ll use the app for the next hour or so. I think that’s about how far we are from the next creepy guy.”

“If you didn’t need a photographer, I could sleep through that.” Bucky said, lying across the back seat. He picked up a folded blanket from the floor. “I’m using your blanket.”

“That’s what it’s there for. There’s a goofy travel pillow too, in case you’re interested. Might be better than the seams and zipper in your hoodie.”

He looked at the wadded up hoodie before shoving it between his legs so it wouldn’t blow out of the car. He found the pillow where it had slid forward and was hiding under the seat. “You keep a clean car.” He called out from under the seat, as he stretched awkwardly to reach.

“She’s my baby.” Nat called back. “You’re on trash duty next stop.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky said, adjusting the horseshoe shaped pillow and tucking the blanket so that it wouldn’t blow away either.

The restless night of doubts had started catching up with him, and the steady motion of the car had been priming him for a nap. Bucky was lulled to sleep by the white noise of the open air and the thump of the bass he could feel more than hear.

Nat looked back after a couple of miles of silence, to see her traveling companion fast asleep. She’d slept in her car before, out of irresponsibility rather than necessity. It wasn’t the worst sleep, but she wasn’t longer than the width of the car – at least not much – unlike Bucky. Still, he looked comfortable, from what she could discover in a couple of over the shoulder glances, curled up on the seat, covered with the plaid blanket, with his arm slung over his eyes.

She couldn’t resist smiling. He seemed to be starting to peek out of his shell, showing hints of the personality that she’d been promised he possessed. The trip had been a joint plan; Steve wasn’t so much worried that Bucky couldn’t _get to_ Stanford, but that he’d never make the leap. He’d actively encouraged Bucky to reinstate his scholarship as soon as Bucky had shown the smallest interest in going to school.

Nat had known that Steve was worried about Bucky slipping back into depression, so she had reminded Steve about her road trip dream. “Maybe if I had a traveling companion who wouldn’t call my ideas lame or stupid, I could finally check it off my list. If you thought that he might, even begrudgingly, tag along without ridiculing _my ideas._ He could ridicule the idea of him tagging along all the way there, as long as he didn’t call my plans unrealistic. Since _you’re_ never going to be the one to go with me.”

She did it for Steve, and for herself, but getting to know Bucky through the little pieces he’d already started to share, she was starting to see what Steve had said about him, he was likeable.

Bucky awoke to the relative silence, he looked up to see Nat standing over him. “You gonna stare all day? Is everything ok?”

“We just stopped for gas.” She grinned, “you want anything from inside? Water? I’m getting water.”

“Sure,” Bucky scrubbed his hand over his face and sat up. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“About an hour.” Nat opened the door for him and stepped back so he could climb out of the back seat. “I never thought to ask, you wanna drive?”

“It’s a stick.” Bucky declined as he straightened his t-shirt.

“So? You can’t drive a stick?”

“One arm Natasha.” He said, following her into the convenience store.

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. You can do the clutch and I’ll shift. It’s how I learned the gears anyway.”

“Maybe.” Bucky mumbled. He looked around, watching Natasha pick up trail mix and cups of fruit and vegetables, probably a good idea, with all the junk they were bound to eat. He wondered about that, about her. She was fit and healthy, but he’d never seen someone put back a burger the way she did at lunch.

She handed the bag of trail mix to Bucky before opening the cooler door and grabbing two bottles of water. He tucked the trail mix under his left arm and took one bottle from her, “Thanks.” They said in unison. Bucky smiled.

She wasn’t imagining it, it was a real, not for photographic purposes, smile, and it was delightful. “You’re welcome.” She grinned, “anything else?”

“Nah, I’m still stuffed. I’m sure this will keep me until we stop. I assume we’ll wait to eat until we get to the motel?”

“Yeah, unless something interesting crops up between here and there.” She agreed, setting her stuff on the counter. She took the trail mix from him and he set the water down. Bucky watched the transaction, between looking around the store at the wall decorations. He looked at the kitschy souvenirs, no plastic snow globe. He shrugged and took the plastic bag when she held it out for him. “You looking for anything specific?” she asked.

Bucky turned toward the door, shaking his head. He led the way and held the door open. She followed, waiting for an answer, even though they were outside the store.

He set the bag on the floor in the back of the car, picked up their empty soda cups, and stood by the door, stretching.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Bucky saw she was standing next to him, holding out the key.

“Well, are you going to drive, and well, what were you looking for inside? If I know, maybe I can keep an eye out.”

Bucky took the key with a tentative, trembling hand, “I guess. And it was stupid.”

“Not more stupid than signing on to drive across country with your best friend’s trainer.”

“You’re not just his trainer.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “Steve wanted me to pick up some souvenir from the trip, I was looking for a plastic snow globe, don’t ask.”

“Good luck. You might find one in one of the antique shops along the way, maybe.”

“I know, I was doomed before I started. It was a lame joke for Steve’s sake.” Bucky settled into the driver’s seat and took a deep breath. “I haven’t driven in two years. Public transportation has been convenient enough. You’re sure about this?”

“Yeah. Just don’t screw me with the clutch, ok? Don’t make me grind her gears.”

Bucky started the car and between them, pulled out of the parking lot without jerking the car, or grinding the gears. “Ok, so far so good.” Bucky said, biting his lip, “Don’t torment me with annoying music, though, ok?”

“I promise.” Nat chuckled. She queued up her road trip playlist, starting with some essential Sammy Hagar, _I Can’t Drive 55_. A couple of back-to-back Fall Out Boy tunes lulled Bucky into a false sense of security, before she hit him with a Disney song. He took the chance, comfortable behind the wheel finally, to shoot her a curious look. He had to look away when she started doing the different voices “He faced the galloping hoards; a hundred bad guys with swords” and he couldn’t resist humming along by the time they hit the second chorus of _Prince Ali_.

“I hate you.” he smirked when the song ended with Nat hitting the high notes. _I Just Can’t Wait to be King_ followed immediately, “I really hate you.” he yelled over the stereo and Natasha’s incredible singing voice.

“You don’t. Come on.” She was egging him on to sing.

“No way.” Bucky chewed his lip and tapped his foot. He realized he was doing so, “I fucking hate you.”

“Aww Buckaroo, you don’t mean it.” she laughed.

“Try me.” He said, not taking his eyes from the road.

When the song ended and the third Disney song started, and Natasha belted out Moana’s _How Far I’ll Go_ , he was convinced she could sing any Disney song and he would happily listen.

“Ok, so you’ve lost your navigator, you’ll have to tell me when we’re supposed to turn off for your creepy guy.”

“Ok, we’ve got a few miles to go.”

“What’s the big deal about those things anyway?”

“Part of the road nostalgia. I just think they’re weird and why not?”

“Ok. Why not.” Bucky shrugged. “Great answer.”

“A lot of the stuff on my list is the same, it’s the only answer I have.”

“Makes sense, as much sense as those weird giants.”

“Visibility, novelty, they were road ads that brought customers. Of course, as we saw, that’s not enough now, but they’re still standing out there, being visited by travelers. Watching the cars come and go, change, and sometimes, like this car or the even more classic models, they’ll see something familiar.”

“You’re anthropomorphizing the fiberglass sculptures.”

“Ok, they’re art, historic art that deserves to be seen, because somebody created it for that purpose. Spoil sport.”

“I liked your first answer.” Bucky rolled his lips between his teeth to keep from smiling. “It was much more creative.”

“You’re an ass.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“We’re coming up on our turn in about a mile.” She pointed out the window, “It’s more a curve I guess.”

“Hey, maybe somebody sells mini creepy dudes.”

“Maybe we could buy a 13” action figure and spray paint him into a creepy dude. There are much cooler souvenirs you can find – don’t limit yourself to something you remember from your grandma’s curio cabinet.”

“Ouch man.” Bucky followed directions beyond the railroad tracks, he and Nat working as a team to downshift, “Ok, now let me guess, creepy guy will be looming.”

“Yeah, keep right, it’ll be directly on our right.”

“I was kidding, I was expecting a bunch more side roads.”

Bucky saw the building before he saw the statue, a tall red brick building with a teal ad painted on the side was the backdrop for the hotdog wielding fiberglass monstrosity. He also had a huge closed-mouth smile, but it was the friendly sort of grin, Bucky supposed. A “here, have a hotdog” kind of smile. Poor Paul’s left hand looked awkward, turned downward instead of cradling the end of the big ole red-hot. Bucky couldn’t judge him too harshly – he was still one up on Bucky. “What did this guy used to hold? Clearly that’s not how one would carry a giant hot dog.”

“I think he’s always been a wiener kind of a guy.” Nat smirked, climbing out of the car. “Huh Paul, my man?”

“Funny.” Bucky rounded the rear of the car, “Then we really have to send this one to Steve. He’ll appreciate the artistic expression.”

“You’re making jokes now, all you needed was a nap? Or are you an alpha – gotta drive that car – kinda guy?”

“I might have been tired.” Bucky shrugged, straightening his tee and fussing with the sleeve on his left arm.

Natasha waited while he got ready for his photo op, tempted to say, “You look fine.” but opting, instead, to say, “Hey cover boy, you ready for your close-up?”

Bucky felt his cheeks flood with color, realizing he’d been caught obsessing over how his arm would look in a picture for his best friend, who had seen him in all of his bandages, casts, and even worse, out of them. It was just a thing he hadn’t gotten past. “You’re hilarious. You wanna open up for Steve on open mic night? I hear he’s going to become a comedian.”

“You’re going to be the headliner. Besides, if it’s open mic night, there’s no opening act.”

“I take it you’ve done it before.” Bucky quipped, standing under Tall Paul’s crotch. “What about this one? You said he was a wiener guy.”

“Ugh, never mind, you’d never make it as a comedian.” Nat nudged him out of the spot and handed him her phone, “This is how it’s done.”

He doubled over laughing when he turned around to see her essentially mounting the leg of the thing, “Warn a guy.” He said once he could breathe. “That’s funny shit.”

“You do know how to laugh, this is amazing. Take the picture Gigglesworth.”

Bucky struggled to take the picture without shaking the camera. It was no less funny now that it wasn’t a surprise. Especially when Natasha was making faces.

“Here, you might want to make sure these are raunchy enough before we leave your boyfriend behind.”

Nat took the phone and waited for Bucky to get back into the driver’s seat, and he stood in front of her next to the passenger door, holding the keys out. “You can keep driving.” She offered, “I mean if you want.”

“I guess,” Bucky shrugged, “We did get into a rhythm.”

“Ok, a couple of lefts to get back to the Mother Road, and a couple of hours before we get to the Chain of Rocks bridge – if you see something cool between here and there, stop, and I’ll try to warn you if I see something.”

“You mean you won’t panic and freak me out?”

“I never panic. But yeah, I’ll do whatever I can not to freak you out.”

Bucky watched as the history of the “Mother Road” unfolded. When Natasha had whimsically given the giant a personality, he’d liked her motivation. He could see it, classic cars in their heyday, traveling because the country had been opened up to their drivers.

The stereo was blasting _We Didn’t Start the Fire_ , which had him doing a little seat wiggle, not quite comfortable enough for a proper seat dance. Still, Natasha didn’t miss it, grinning as she looked out the windshield and sailed her hand through the air out the side window. She started singing along while egging Bucky on with gestures and eyebrow wriggling. He finally caved and started singing. As they hit highway seeds, the duo was singing at top volume.

The two hours to the next big stop wound up closer to three with the roadside curiosities they both found. The first time Bucky stopped, Natasha was shocked, but said nothing. He was loosening up as the day progressed. She was tempted to shoot Steve a text telling him how things were going, but she didn’t like feeling like a narc, if Steve asked, that would be another story.

They walked side by side across the accessible areas of the Chain of Rocks Bridge, taking photo after photo of street signs that were displayed. Bucky offered to take the picture of a couple who returned the favor.

Natasha wandered checking out the car and signs along the bridge, as well as the view of the river. She turned to say something to Bucky but he wasn’t there. Her first guess was that he’d gone back into his shell and returned to the car, done with their planned pictures, but she spotted him on the rusty bridge. He was leaning on the rail, looking out.

When she stopped next to him saying, “On your left,” and he didn’t look up, she mirrored his position. “So, it’s an impressive view, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“That’s very noncommittal.” She nudged his shoulder with hers.

“Some things require few words. History happened here, can you feel it? How do you verbalize it?”

“Did you wax poetic in Brooklyn?”

“I used to.” Bucky nodded, “With Steve’s mom. She would lecture us about the history of our block, going clear back to before it was a block. I would listen when she told Steve about their Irish heritage too.”

Bucky turned, resting his back against the rail, “Pop would talk about his grandfather working the docks, and shipping off for war.”

“We’re here to tell our own story.”

“What’s it gonna be?” He looked at her curiously

“We’re finding out.” She shrugged, “I think it’s a meandering tale.”

Bucky was quiet long enough, she thought maybe he was dismissing her. When he did speak, she had to think about the answer.

“Did you get a 2-dimensional image of me from what Steve has told you?”

“I…” Nat took a deep breath, “I don’t think I’d call it that, but I did form opinions. Let me guess, being with me is helping flesh out my character.”

“I thought you were terrifying and hated me.”

“Did you just say you thought I hated you? I didn’t know you.”

“I’m not sure if Steve told you, but I haven’t been in the best head space lately.”

“Is that a reason for me to hate you?” Natasha asked scrutinizing him and trying to comprehend where he might be coming from.

“I don’t know. I mean, it might be, or… you know, maybe my _mental illness clouds my judgment_.”

“You seem competent to me.” Natasha crossed the width of the bridge with a ballerina’s grace, the glissade no less perfect in Vans than in toe shoes.

“I’m having a good day, I guess.” Bucky tightened his hair at his neck, certain that his ponytail was still extra messy. “I guess I should thank you for that.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Natasha followed Bucky to the end of the bridge, “You wanna keep driving? Or would you like a rest?”

“I’d like a chance to munch on the trail mix and veggies you bought earlier, so I’ll let you take back the wheel.”

“Sorry I didn’t think about that. If you want to drive again tomorrow, let me know.”

“Yup. Don’t worry about not thinking about it, I don’t think about it as much anymore either.”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant – I could have tried to facilitate a snack. We’re only on the road a couple more hours. Do you think we can make it to the motel before we stop for dinner?”

“As long as I can snack a little.” Bucky nodded, “You still want to stop at that park to photograph the Arch?”

“Yeah, if that’s ok,” Natasha slid into the driver’s seat. “so maybe three hours?”

Bucky leaned on the door of the car, “Three hours should be about right.”

“Bucky, how do you feel about having a pizza delivered when we get to the motel?”

“Pizza sounds good, but I don’t want to deprive you of more road trip experiences.”

“Nah,” she shook her head, starting the car, “we can see if some local joint delivers. What do you want to do for breakfast? Or are you not coming with me?”

“Not pizza.” Bucky slid into the passenger seat, and reached under the seat for the snacks. “Pancakes.”

“That was fast.” Nat glanced at him as she looked over her shoulder to back out of the parking spot.

“I can’t imagine there’s another food.” He munched on some of the trail mix.

“Gee, and you’re the genius.”

“Pfft. Hardly.”

“Ok, scholar then.” She shifted and pulled onto the highway, “Eggs, bacon, ham, WAFFLES, omelets… FRENCH TOAST…”

“All pale in comparison.” Bucky slid down in his seat, leaning his head back against the low seat back.

“You know I’m teasing, the glory of going out to breakfast is that everybody gets to order what they want.”

“Steve can’t make a decent pancake to save his life.” Bucky looked at Nat from behind a thick fringe of eyelashes. “Of course, those gluten free, dairy free things are horrendous.”

“Surely they’re not _all_ that bad.”

“Some things are ok, but the mix he gets to accommodate his allergies is awful.”

“Maybe you can scout some decent alternatives when you’re settled.”

“Were you just listing breakfast foods? Or was your favorite mentioned in there somewhere?”

“I’ll eat almost anything. It depends on my mood. You know? I haven’t had biscuits and gravy in a while.”

“I guess not. It probably doesn’t do anything to energize you for work.”

“This _is_ a ridiculous cheat week.” She grinned.

Bucky turned to look out the window, smiling, and wondered why he felt like he did. He hadn’t had a legitimate _good day_ in longer than he could remember. Always a six, maybe today was a three.

They arrived at the motel as the sun was starting to set, before the sky would be painted in shades of purples. Bucky had expected a dingy, rundown, kitschy themed eyesore, and even though his expectations had been shot down consistently throughout the day, he was still visibly shocked at seeing the stone-fronted bungalows that dotted the property.

“Holy shit!”

Natasha laughed as she pulled up the drive. “What now?”

“This place is not what I expected.” He admitted with a blush.

“Your lack of faith can be excused just this once.” She was clearly still amused. “I’ll check in and be right back.”

Bucky listened to the radio and waited – further surprised by how quickly she returned, startling him when she opened the door. “All set. Do you need anything out of your boxes?”

He shook his head, watching as she put the car in gear, “No, the bag has everything I’ll need.”

She pulled around; following the directions that she’d been given to their room, and parked near the cottage-looking building. “Can I get you to do me a favor? Would you hop in the back and unsnap the cover boot? We almost didn’t have this baby.”

Bucky did as she asked, “You mean we could have been driving without a top if it rained?”

Natasha snickered, “Yeah, the part was delayed.” She engaged the cover as soon as Bucky was settled on the back seat holding the boot, “look how sweet and smooth that is.”

“Nice. I’m still stuck on ‘we would be driving without a top’.”

“Listen, look how long that took,” she was out of the car and put her seat forward so he could get out, “if we were hit by a sudden storm, even in tip top condition, we’d get wet.”

Bucky climbed out from the back seat, taking her offer of a hand, getting out that way, with a roof overhead was a much different experience than it had been earlier, and he was glad for the assist. He followed her around the rear fender, taking his bag from her and hooking the strap over his shoulder, across his body. “I can take something else, if it helps.”

“Thanks, I just have the one bag too, Let’s get inside and see what we’re dealing with.”

Bucky fell into step alongside her, “So, I know we agreed to pizza, but that smell as we passed that barbecue joint, that might be enough to drag me out of the room.”

“It did smell good.” Natasha turned to face him, “You ok with walking?”

Bucky shrugged his left shoulder, ignoring the pull against the bag strap, “Can’t see why not.”

“Let’s get rid of this stuff and I gotta pee.” She tried not to smile at the look he gave her, “what? You hit the head, I pee.”

“No good way to discuss it, is there?” He rolled his eyes as she unlocked the room. She dropped her bag on one of the beds and hurried into the bathroom. Bucky set his bag next to hers and called Steve.

“Hey Buck.” Steve answered cheerily. “How’s it going?”

“Hey yourself.” Bucky wandered to the window, “It’s ok. We made it to our first motel stop, we’re in Cuba, Missouri.”

“So no murders yet, I’m guessing. You said “we”.”

“Clearly, I haven’t been murdered yet, sorry to dash your hopes. I can rectify that in January.” Bucky shook his head, smiling, “There’ll be one in January.”

The thought was a little overwhelming, he would be alone until the darkest part of winter. Winter where there was sun, that reminder helped get him back on track.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?” Bucky answered, startled.

“I asked how’s the room.”

“Oh, hey, it’s small, but it has beds, and it’s clean. Bucky looked up at Natasha as she came out of the bathroom. “Hey, here’s Nat, I’ll be right back.”

“Organic soap!” Natasha grinned, making Bucky smile. He wished he could be excited over something as – well – pure as soap. She was laughing as she took the phone, “Hey Steve.”

“How’s the trip?”

“Good.” She watched the door close behind Bucky. “He’s good too, a little aloof still, but he did seem to enjoy driving.”

“You got him to come out from under his hood long enough to drive?”

“Yeah, he got some sun or something.” Natasha followed the path Bucky had walked, and stood at the window, “I think you were right, a change of venue.”

“If you have any trouble, let me know. God I hate betraying a trust, but if he seems _really off_ , his meds are in an outside pocket of his bag. “I’m not saying be the drug police. God. I don’t know.”

“Calm down Rogers.”

“Yeah.” She heard the weight of emotion behind his sigh.

“How’s it going for you? You’ve been taking the big brother role pretty seriously for so long, you ok letting go?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t… I guess I’ll have to let you know.”

“You moped in front of the TV or hid behind a video game controller instead of drawing. You didn’t call Sam either.”

“No…” he breathed heavily, “I mean, correct on all counts.”

“That’s ok. Tomorrow’s another day, just like the gym and missing workouts.” Nat turned to see Bucky coming out of the bathroom, “We’re about to head next door for some barbecue, did you need to talk to Bucky again?”

“Nah. Tell him I’m… I don’t know. I mean, I’m proud of him, and all that. I think I’m gonna walk down the street and grab a bite. See? I am getting out.”

“Yeah, good. Gym tomorrow, and art. No excuses.”

“Oh, I thought I had the next two weeks off too.”

Natasha answered with a laugh. One he knew meant he was full of something. “Ok, just imagine the plan I’ll have waiting for you when I get back.”

“Steve!” Bucky called out loudly enough to be heard, “She eats like a high school quarterback, she’s going to torture you anyway just because she needs to make things up herself, whatever she’s warning you against, just do it. Do what you want.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Nat said, holding the phone away from Bucky.

“He sounds like the old Bucky.” Steve’s amused laugh trailed off, “I’ve been doing it all wrong.”

“It’s early. You can’t do that Steve. Here talk to Bucky.” Natasha handed the phone back to Bucky, “I’m running out to get my hoodie, you need yours?”

Bucky nodded while talking to Steve, “you’re obsessing over me again, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Bucky looked at himself in the mirror, even though half the time he’d been in the bathroom he’d been doing so, tugging his sleeve lower, wondering why he didn’t just wear long sleeves, why he didn’t pin or alter more shirts to cover the scars.

“I haven’t even had a day.” Steve’s tone was defensive, “Nat said you’re heading to dinner, I don’t want to keep you.”

“In a bit. She went out to get our jackets. Don’t sweat anything Steve, we’re ok, I promise, I’m fine.”

Bucky finished the call promising to message Steve when they got started in the morning. He met Natasha at the door, “He doesn’t know what to do with himself.” Bucky said as he pulled the door closed behind him, “That’s my fault.”

“You both need to get past the fault/blame thing. This move might be hard, but I think it’ll be good for you both.”

“You and my therapist.” Bucky shoved his hand deep into his jeans pocket.

“I’m not trying to be anybody’s therapist, but I think you and I have at least one thing in common. We are both Steve’s friend.”

“I’ve put him through the wringer.” Bucky admitted as he walked alongside Natasha, “I’m not sure where I’d be if it wasn’t for him. I mean, dead, obviously… but…”

“Where are you with that?”

“Contrite.” Bucky admitted. “Guilt-ridden, angry, seeing a therapist. Taking meds. Numbering my days, ‘is it a six?’, ‘Have I had a five day?’.”

“You’re only on a five or a six? We danced!”

“Oh, no, that’s an average; today’s at least a four, maybe a three. I already thought about that. I don’t remember to do it every day, but today stands out. Thanks to you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the delightful [Naomi Lasenby](https://lasenbyphoenix.tumblr.com/post/158793190094/artwork-for-how-we-get-there-by)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suicide attempt is mentioned a multiple times and past underage sexual abuse is implied (does not happen between main characters)

Bucky woke up to the sound of an analog clock alarm. He’d forgotten that they were getting up early. Didn’t care after the beers he’d had at the restaurant. He should have stopped after the first one, maybe the second, but he’d started feeling all loose and even amusing.

He groaned and fumbled for it, forgetting that he couldn’t reach it with the disdainful stump of an arm. “Fuck.” He grumbled, rolling over and sitting up. By the time he was untangled from the sheets, Natasha had stopped the horrid noise.

“Sorry.” She sounded uncharacteristically sheepish. He looked at her, her curls in disarray, she was looking at him out of one eye, “Sorry.” She said again, softer this time.

“You too?” Bucky asked, looking down to see he’d slept in his clothes. She sat on the edge of her bed in a set of lavender pajamas with little designs that his eyes and brain couldn’t begin to decipher.

“Yeah, a little.” Nat looked at Bucky’s rumpled tee, resting about midway up his chest, and his messy bed head, “You go see if the shower works, report back to me.” She laid back down, across the bed, looking at the ceiling.

“If I don’t come out, tell Steve I loved him.” Bucky muttered, dragging his bag into the bathroom.

“You still want pancakes.” Natasha yelled through the wall before deciding maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t yell. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her, but imagined that if he did, he was cursing her right now. She’d tell him later that this was their long day for driving.

Bucky stepped out of the shower, all he wanted to do was to go out and crawl back into the bed. He was so tempted to drop his towel, wander out, and climb into the sheets. He looked at his reflection. “Yay. More travel.” No, that guy wasn’t into it either. He combed his hair and tied it up into a better ponytail, not out of interest, simply because without an audience and with just-combed hair, he wasn’t stuck with a half-assed attempt. He brushed his teeth, hey, check that off the list; washed, combed, and brushed. Maybe he could go back to bed after all.

Bucky pulled the top shirt and a pair of underwear out, he heard the pills rattle in their bottle, and took the amber bottle out. He looked at it, scrutinizing the contents. He’d packed it, always as disinterested as he was now, at the last minute. Last night he had forgotten before dinner to take his second dose, then ran off and got drunk enough to be hung over. He stuffed the bottle back into the bag. He’d skipped a dose, what was the point of taking one now? Guilt or prudence had him pulling the bottle back out of the bag and dumping his morning dose onto the counter. “What’s the point of _not_ taking one now?” he asked his reflection. “What would that prove?”

Bucky popped the pill and chased it down with water from the little prewrapped plastic cup. “It’s a seven. You took your drugs, let’s get it to a six Buck.”

Once he was dressed, he stepped out of the bathroom. He dropped his bag heavily to the floor and crawled across his bed. “Shower’s yours. You were right about the soap. If I fall asleep, just don’t leave me behind.”

“Yeah, they’d kick you out at checkout and you’d be homeless. Can’t have that.” Nat teased, heading into the bathroom. “You gonna live?”

“Yeah. If the drugs kick in it might even be worth it.”

Before Bucky knew it, he was being gently jostled awake. “Hey. I hate to wake you, even though you told me to.”

She was so kind, Bucky smiled. “Yeah. Ok. You’re done already?”

“Yeah, bags are in the car, I figured you could use the extra snooze time. You still in the mood for pancakes?”

“I don’t know if _mood_ is the right word, but I gotta eat.”

“That’s right.” Nat offered him a hand, “and pancakes _are_ the only breakfast food.”

“Damn straight.” Bucky pulled his sneakers on, leaving them untied. “Thanks for taking my bag out.”

“It was no trouble, you’re welcome.” She didn’t address the way he’d mumbled most of the thing he’d said because she knew he wasn’t feeling well, and she wasn’t sure if it was hangover, depression, alcohol interference with meds, or a delightful combination, but they were definitely starting the day off in a different – and not better – mood than the previous day.

The short drive to the diner wasn’t enough time for Bucky to get both shoes tied, but Natasha was putting the boot back on the opened convertible, which gave him the time he needed to make himself presentable. He zipped his hoodie and pulled the shroud over his hair and head.

Natasha opened the door and crouched down next to it, blocking the next stall, “Wanna talk?”

“Honestly? No. I don’t wanna do anything. If you’d left me, I’d still be sleeping. What if I just crawl into the back and sleep?”

“After you eat, you can do exactly that, if that’s what you need. I hear they have really good blueberry pancakes here. Or are you such a purist that fruit ruins your pancake experience?”

“It could go either way.” Bucky turned in his seat to get out, but stayed there, unable to push himself out of the car.

A car trying to park honked and made them both jump, and instead of moving and apologetically closing the door, Natasha flipped them off. “I’m not sorry I did that.”

Bucky smiled briefly, “We should probably vacate the spot. Maybe we should just go somewhere else? They don’t seem too thrilled.”

“I don’t give a shit. Two questions for you Bucky. Will you eat pancakes with me? And are you ready to go in yet?”

“I don’t know about being ready, but yes, I’ll eat. We already established that.”

“Ok, so no, we don’t need to go anywhere else. This is the place I chose, because the staff at the motel said, “best blueberry pancakes” when I asked. Everybody else can fuck the hell off until you’re able to walk in that door.”

“I hate to ask, but what’s on the itinerary for today?”

“Pops, we have to stock up on soda.” She smiled, “There’s a giant blue whale, and a round barn. It’s a long day, and a long drive, and I was just thinking we could do more of what we did yesterday while you drove, stopping if something caught our eye.”

“I hope they have something you like too; this place doesn’t look like the typical fun stop on Natasha Romanoff’s Super Cool Route 66 Road Trip.”

“Sometimes we go for quality food over quality atmosphere. I hear Pop’s has both. There’s also this place that inspired Sally from Pixar’s Cars – and they have some interesting menu items. About halfway from here to Pop’s is the Steak ‘n Shake. Let’s just see what kind of food they have. You want to eat outside? It seems small.”

Bucky looked at the small picnic tables in front of the small diner, “Yeah, sure.”

“Ok, so I’ll go order, you want juice, coffee? Both? When you’re ready, pick a table and I’ll meet you outside.”

“A big, giant coffee.” Bucky looked at Nat, making the impossible choice to make eye contact. “Thanks for being cool about this Nat, I’m not great today, and you're not beating me up over it.”

“No problem. Whatever it is, you can talk if you want, or we can just make adjustments as we need to.”

Bucky sat on the picnic table bench with his feet on the seat next to him and his arm wrapped around his legs, he’d pulled the drawstring on his hood and buried his face in his lap. His cheeks soaked with tears that he couldn’t stop, or explain. A three, yesterday had been a three or a four, and today he was struggling to get to a seven. Why did she have to be so nice? Why did it have to seem like she actually cared about how he felt? It would be better if she just offered to kick his ass, and followed through when he took her up on it.

When Nat came back out with a tray of food, she set it down quietly, seeing that Bucky was possibly in a compromising situation. She sat next to him and put her hand on the top of his shoe. “They only had the one size, so I got you two coffees.”

She didn’t say any more, just set the pancakes in front of his seat and cut into her biscuits and gravy with her right hand, keeping the little bit of contact since he didn’t pull away. This wasn’t the best kind of day, but she wasn’t upset, she’d been there. It was about fifteen years ago now, but she knew how it felt to both be separated from everything familiar, and depressed on top of it.

When Bucky’s hand slid down over his shins and brushed hers briefly, she smiled over at him, “The biscuits and gravy’s pretty good. Yours smelled amazing though.”

He shifted on the seat, putting his feet down properly, and took a deep drink of his coffee. “Not awful.” He admitted. “Thanks.”

Natasha handed him a big napkin, “You’re welcome.”

He looked around before using the napkin to wipe the tears from his face and neck before cutting a bite-sized piece of pancake.

“You’ll be happy to know we’re better off eating out here. The place is kinda gray, there’s carpet, also gray, and it’s really small, starting to be crowded.”

“Yeah, this is better.” Bucky nodded, eating another bite before taking another giant drink from the coffee cup. Bucky was glad the rest of the meal didn’t require communication, he forced himself to eat the first several bites, but the reviews were right, the giant blueberry pancakes were pretty good. He looked over to see her eating a side of eggs, “Wanna try some? They’re not just good, they’re huge.”

“Sure.” Nat cut a bite off the edge of the pancake, “So, what’s today’s number?”

“I was hoping it would bump up to a six after I took my meds this morning, but I lost my seven and we’re hovering around a hard nine or a soft eight.”

“Sucks.” She didn’t say anything else about it, “I’m ready to go when you are, I can go get another coffee while you finish up, if you’d like.”

“These two should do me, or we’ll be making a pit stop in about forty minutes.” Bucky took another bite and pushed another one around on the plate. Half of it was eaten, what a waste, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat another bite. “I’m finished, if you want any of this before I get rid of it?”

“Nah, we’ll leave it. It’s ok, that thing was huge.” She slid the keys under his hand and walked to the car.

Bucky picked up the keys and turned them over in his hand, house key, car key, leather teardrop keychain with the Oldsmobile 442 emblem on a metal medallion. She was his age, but man, did she embrace her classic car. He shook his head, thinking to dump the keys in her lap and crawl into the back seat. Yet, when he got to the car, he sat in the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Oklahoma.” He said quietly.

He shouldn’t have. As they drove out of the lot, she was singing the lyrics to the title song of the musical. She sang the entire song, as loud as she could, and her voice could carry. She didn’t miss a beat shifting when he pressed the clutch, as though they hadn’t stopped the previous day.

Bucky’s mood leveled out as he drove, he wanted to blame a second burst of tears on the wind, but he knew there wasn’t really any point in denying they were just part of what he had to get through today. He rubbed his left sleeve across his cheek, letting the wind blow most of the offensive saline dry on his face. He appreciated that Natasha kept the music easy to listen to, Meatloaf, The Eagles, a little more Fall Out Boy and some Incubus, not too loud and she didn’t try to engage him in sing-alongs.

Natasha knew she’d been lucky to get out of him what he’d already shared, and she was surprised that he’d gone ahead and drove. She had expected him to hand the keys back to her or something, but she knew his mood had improved when he’d driven the day before, and if she asked, it would be a chance for him to decline and make excuses. She had almost offered to take over when she saw his emotions get the best of him, but he seemed in control, and she kept watch without staring, in case it did get out of hand.

They stopped in Springfield for photo ops at the “Birthplace of Route 66” on the central square, and outside the working drive-in theater in Carthage, “I couldn’t get the timing to line up so we could see a movie here.” Nat told him.

“I guess there’s a goal for next time.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I wonder if there are any drive-in theaters in California near where I’ll end up, you can visit and we could try it.”

“Sounds like an idea. It’s not “a drive-in movie on route 66” cool, but it’s “California” cool.”

Bucky nodded, a tiny smile turning his mouth upward, he really thought he was hiding something, Nat thought, catching the smile before he turned away to get into the car.

Bucky drove to the next filling station, and up to the pump. Nat turned to look at him when he killed the engine, “You want anything from inside?”

“Yeah, a bottle of water, please.”

She handed him the credit card that Steve had given her, “Here you go, don’t go crazy.”

Bucky swiped the card and started filling up the tank, making the mistake of looking too wistfully at a motorcycle that had pulled in.

“What you lookin’ at?”

“Nice bike,” Bucky shrugged.

“Eyes forward, freak.” the biker, twice Bucky’s width and about as tall, shoved at Bucky’s left arm hitting his shoulder hard with the heel of his hand.

“Dude, I was just appreciatin’ your ride, the fuck?” Bucky asked after securing the hose on the pump.

“I don’t need no one-arm, faggot freak lookin’ at my bike.”

“Fine, I take it back.”

Bucky found himself on the ground with the side of his face being pressed hard against the pavement, and the biker was on top of him, about to pommel him. Bucky brought his elbow up to the man’s throat at the same time he jammed his knee up between the man’s legs, he shoved himself upward as the man started to roll away with the pain. Natasha grabbed Bucky by his arm, tugging him to his feet, and yanked the attacker’s head back by his hair with her other hand, “Problem here Buck?”

“Nah. The tank’s full. Word of advice, do _not_ compliment the man on his bike. He’s afraid of queers and probably girls.”

“Didn’t know you was queer man, shoulda told me before we got together.” She shot Bucky a sideways smile before kneeing the guy in the kidneys, “You wanna press charges Bucky? We could call the cops. Seems you picked a station with modern stuff like security cameras.”

“Nah, again, tank’s full, we should just head out.”

“How ‘bout you, Mary? You wanna call the cops?”

Bucky stood by the side of the car, nursing his wounds quietly, while freaking out that she was starting more trouble.

“No. Jesus. Just get off me.”

“Yeah, I’d love to wipe up the portion of asphalt you pushed my guy into, but we got a road trip to continue. Remember, karma’s a real bitch.”

“Come on Karma, let’s hit the road.” Bucky couldn’t stop himself from saying it as he sat heavily on the passenger seat.

“You done here, Mary?” She released the guy’s hair, “I don’t like you hanging around on my side of the pump, how ‘bout you go check on your precious bike.”

Nat watched as the dirty son of a bitch went back to his bike before she opened the trunk and pulled her makeup bag out of her gym bag. She tossed it into Bucky’s lap, and got into the car, driving a mile down the road before pulling off again, “here, let me help you.”

She pulled some facial cleaning cloths and some first aid ointments out, and started cleaning his face. “I was going to have you use one of these earlier, after all that wind.”

“You mean after two bouts of tears. It’s ok, I know I’m not fooling anyone.”

“So, did you egg Bluto over there on? Or was he a genuine douche canoe?”

“The second one.” Bucky winced at the scratches from the asphalt stinging as they were cleaned. “I simply looked at his motorcycle, and he got hot.”

“I liked your escape, I didn’t know if you’d manage it, he was big with a low center of gravity.”

“He’s got balls, they’re fair game.” Bucky smiled. “I used to do ok, never knew how I’d manage in a one-armed fight, you’re deceptively strong and I’m glad you were there. He coulda taken me down again.”

She shrugged, “Oh, he probably would have, but you got a good hit on him.” She finished cleaning the scrapes, handing him a second cloth, “You ok?”

“Sure.” Bucky cleaned his face and neck that still felt sticky from the earliest bout of tears, tossing the cloth into the bag she held open. “Probably bruised my pride more than the rest of me.”

She applied the ointment, looking into his gray eyes, “Pride’s very sensitive. Bodies are too, though not as much. Tell me what kind of injuries we might be facing.”

Bucky shrugged out of his hoodie, pulling his left sleeve up to his shoulder. “He _pushed_ me pretty good here, it’s a sensitive spot so it could have just hurt worse than if he’d gotten my other arm.”

“K, so we’ll keep an eye out for bruising, you have the usual range of motion?”

“Yeah, I think.” Bucky rotated his arm, stretching his shoulder and neck, “Yeah. Other than that, body checking me… there might be some bruises.”

“Did you hit your head?” she didn’t wait for him to answer, checking behind his ears and across the back of his head for a raised spot, watching him for flinching.

“I don’t remember. Does that mean I did? Or didn’t?”

“Smart ass. It could mean either, of course. Any pain?”

“No, listen, you don’t have to get me to California bruise free, I don’t care what Steve told you.”

“It’s not that, I’d rather not have you die on me, ok? So be honest about hitting your head when I ask. Don’t be a smart ass.”

“I honestly don’t remember hitting my head, so it could go either way, you haven’t touched any tender spots, and I think I’m ok, let’s just drive.”

“Ok, but you have to stay awake for a while, just to humor me.”

“Yeah? You gonna wake me every two hours for the next 24 hours too?”

“Yes.” She was serious and he wasn’t even capable of arguing with the look she gave him, “Yes, if you don’t remember whether or not you hit your head, and thank you for being that honest, instead of just saying ‘no’, I will be waking you every two to three hours.”

“Just don’t set the hotel alarm, that thing was horrible.”

She laughed, “you set it last night. I didn’t. I told you that both of our phones had alarms that weren’t klaxons from another era.”

“Ok, so don’t let me set any hotel alarms.” Bucky smirked, “I’m sorry Nat.”

“Fuck that, you don’t have to be sorry for appreciating that bike. You know what could have happened?” she asked, starting the car again. “I could have appreciated it, he would hit on me, grabbed me, and you would have been _Steve’s best friend_ jumping to my defense, and we’d still be sitting here.”

“You mean I woulda opened my big mouth and told him to leave you alone, and he’d drop me as fast as he did for liking his motorcycle.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” She laughed. “You sure you’re ok? I could find a hospital.”

“I'll live, and I’m not just saying that.”

“I think the water bottles rolled under the seat, sorry about that.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll wait until you break hard, they’ll roll forward, and then we can drink.”

“I haven’t had to break hard yet. You’ll be fishing them out.” She smiled over at him, the small scrapes on the left side of his face were pink and shiny from the ointment. “You know? In a different time, I would have threatened him with a gun. I would love to be that person right now.”

“No you wouldn’t. Really?”

“Yeah, I had a concealed carry permit for a long time.”

“Jesus, how old are you? I mean, yeah, you don’t ask that question, but… never mind.”

“I lived in Vermont, you could get one at sixteen. It was necessary.”

“Ok, I can imagine zero reasons, but I absolutely believe you.”

“Music?”

“You want something crazy, something mellow?”

“I want something that won’t put you to sleep for the next two hours.”

“Gotcha.” Bucky scrolled through the playlists, “We have a whole bunch of annoying shit left?”

“No, it just gets worse than the stuff we already vetoed.”

Bucky queued up the ‘road trip’ playlist, starting with David Bowie’s, _Golden Years_ , and set it to shuffle. “I’ve always liked this song.”

“Me too, always loved Bowie.” She smiled, “Good choice.”

Bucky resisted the urge to rub the stinging, sticky scrapes. He was still a little shaken from the whole ordeal as he remembered the water bottles, “So you came out and threw the water bottles into the car?”

“Yeah, I nearly missed the knee to the groin.”

Bucky unbuckled his seatbelt and reached under the seat for the water bottles, handing one to Nat before sticking the second one between his legs and buckling up again. “It was a well-placed shot. Too bad I’m reduced to that.”

“Too bad? Reduced? To what, fighting for your life and your safety? Or fighting like _a girl_?”

“I didn’t mean…” yeah he did.

“Yeah, you did. You’re down an arm, but you still have the means to defend yourself, and anything that keeps a knife from your gut is a defense, and not a gender-specific move. You’re not emasculated by the new configuration of your body. Do you feminize the other things you’ve had to do to get along with just one arm?”

“No, just adapt as necessary.”

“Fighting isn’t any different. You just adapt as necessary. Tell me, if both arms had been readily available and he still wasn’t going anywhere, would you have _been reduced_ to using that move?”

“I would have used it if I had to.”

“But since you have one arm, your safety is less important?”

“Of course, I get it, honestly. I clearly wasn’t thinking. Maybe I did hit my head.”

“Is that a joke?” Nat’s frown trembled as she fought the smile.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Bucky smiled softly, “Thanks for everything. I don’t know what tomorrow’s going to be like, and I’m sorry today hasn’t been all that great.”

“You’re welcome. Please don’t apologize for having a bad day. You and I both know that Steve told me about your depression. I know it’s been debilitating, and I understand. You had a good day yesterday, and it was nice to share that. Today didn’t start out well, that’s ok. It could still get better or anything really. Let’s just keep shooting for that six, ok?”

“Ok. You’re right. You know? I think I’ll refrain from any more beer, or much alcohol. I guess I remember why I haven’t had any in a long time.”

“Good to know your trigger foods as well as other triggers, right? I’m not going to police you. Steve is having a hard time not doing that. He told me where to find your meds.”

“Did he tell you how many I should have and when I should take them too?” Bucky’s disappointment turned from his friend to himself, “I made him that way, the suicide attempt was a huge mess for both of us.”

“Was it the arm? Or depression in general?”

“So much of all of it. I wasn’t recovering physically as I thought I should. I had to take speech and physical therapy so I could talk and walk again, but I was convinced that I didn’t have to do either of them because I already lost an arm, so what was the point?”

“Sounds stupid.”

“I know.” Bucky chuckled. “It was. I was.”

“No, to answer your question, he just told me where they were. I hope that today, he’s not so worried about the little bird flying too far from the nest.”

“Yeah, it’s probably going to take more than one day and one phone call for that. One of us might have to resort to siccing Wilson on him.”

“Let’s hope not. That’s the same as how he’s been behaving with you.”

“Yeah, true. We have been a little too codependent. That’s part of the reason my therapist was so gung- ho about me making this move. It’s also why _his therapist_ insisted on January before moving and changing schools.”

“I’m still not sure how I feel about that.” She looked at him briefly, “One of my best friends, moving halfway across the country.”

“Yeah, maybe you can talk him out of it. Ask him out, tell him you don’t want him to go.”

“We’re not that kind of friends. How many times do I have to tell you?”

They were both quiet for a while after the rhetorical question. Bucky couldn’t quite comprehend the way her emphatic insistence that she wasn’t interested in Steve made him feel. He shouldn’t be happy about that. Then again, Steve had never professed anything but a fierce friendship, so why not? Happiness was the goal, right?

“You’re right.” Bucky finally said, “it’s such a rude assumption, and terrible advice.”

“Yeah it is. What kind of friend tells their friends not to do something? He wants to be an animator, he’s going to get the education he needs, and I’ll get to say “I knew him when”. Besides, more trips to California, right?”

“Well, yeah, you’d better visit him.”

She smiled and continued down the road, “This might be one of the stretches where they said, “you might want to take the main highway”.”

“After all the excitement are you getting bored?”

“It’s a long one, and we haven’t seen much. I’d pass on that kind of excitement too; stop trying to look at pretty, shiny things, would ya? I can’t comprehend who gets offended when someone appreciates their ride? Especially on a road that inspires that shit?”

“Idiots. I think I offended him. Me, the freak. I’m just using his words, I make people uncomfortable, some of it might have been…”

“You could stop at idiot. Whatever it was about you that offended him; that was on him. Don’t take the blame for his atrocious attitude.”

“and we’re starting the cycle all over again. My bad.”

“Yeah, let’s not.” Natasha watched the road, sparing him a couple of glances. The scrapes weren’t as pink, so she could hope they wouldn’t become infected, they didn’t look so bad now that the angry pinkness was faded.

All coolness had been a put on when she’d come out and didn’t see him by the car, she had thought he’d slipped past her for a restroom break, but when she heard the angry slurs coming from the biker, she’d kicked into fight mode, even though her stomach had dropped. She couldn’t imagine what he’d already suffered by the time she’d come out, and she really wasn’t sure if she could get the guy off him. Watching him fight had tamed her doubts, and she smiled thinking about how smooth his moves were.

“I was really impressed with how you got free from being pinned.” She took the chance that they wouldn’t go the deep rounds again, but thought that he should know.

“Thanks.” He felt his cheeks heat up and the warmth spread down his neck. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bucky tried not to fall asleep as they drove, but the music was just loud enough, and the air blowing overhead was white noise enough, he jarred himself awake a few times. He tried sipping the cool water just to keep himself awake. He was surprised when they pulled off the road, he looked up from dozing again, expecting to see nothing worth stopping for, unless she just wanted a picture of open fields.

“Hey Bucky, I found the great Blue Whale.”

“Oh?” Bucky yawned and rubbed his arm across his cheek as he sat up straighter in his seat. “Is it really “great”?”

“Take a look. There’s a taco stand too, you up for some food?” She was already opening his door, what he wouldn’t give for some of her energy.

“Yeah,” he leaned out of the car, before standing up, and stretched before tugging his shirt down. He tossed his hoodie into the back seat, “I’m getting hungry.”

They walked toward the giant blue fiberglass or whatever structural material, Bucky couldn’t be sure what the goofy looking thing was made of. It was sitting in stagnant water, but overall, he visual was pleasant. “So, you want a picture with the giant blue whale? You know why the water’s like that don’t you? Poor thing doesn’t have enough room, has to shit where it lives.”

“If you weren’t attacked earlier, I might hit you.” Nat screwed up her features to express her disgust, “I can’t believe you went there.”

“Sorry. Did it ruin your stop?”

“It’s the funniest thing you’ve said all day.”

“Not much in the way of a compliment.” Bucky smiled.

“Give me some better material.” Nat shrugged, walking up to the open mouth of the whale. They walked through the tunnel of the whale, from mouth to tail, looking out at the pond, before turning back around. “I think the best place for really good pictures would be over by those tables. We can get the whole whale that way.”

“Yeah? You don’t want to fake being swallowed by the thing?” Bucky asked, hopeful that she didn’t want him to play.

“Nah, we can do that too, if you want.”

“I’m just the photographer.”

“Bucky, you’re not. You don’t have to, obviously, but you have to admit, we took some good pictures together.”

“Ok, but if you keep twisting my arm, I won’t have any left.”

“Boo.” She laughed, “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah, but you laughed, so…”

They took pictures of each other, and when there wasn’t anybody nearby, Nat propped her phone up, “Stand there and let me try this. We’ll put it on timer and hope for the best.”

Bucky stood as ordered, fidgeting while she worked. “You know? You’re deceptively strong. You yanked me to my feet and had him on the ground. How do you do that?”

“I saw an opportunity. I’ve been training since I was seven, self-defense, shooting range, archery. I doubt there’s a weapon I can’t use, or a fight move I don’t have at least some experience with.”

“Wow, ok. Ultimate survivalist? Family of conspiracy theorists? Apocalypse preparation?”

“Kidnap victim turned paranoid, with an overprotective father.” Nat said from next to Bucky’s arm.

He wasn’t sure if he looked at the camera or at Nat, but he was relatively sure he just ruined her picture. She didn’t say more, just picked up the camera and shoved it into her pocket. “Tacos?”

Bucky followed her across the parking area toward the little building fronted by umbrella-covered tables. They ordered, and were seated with their food, before she spoke again. “My mother kidnapped me from my father, who had sole custody, when I was three. We were on the run, living with different men, for three and a half years before my father and his friend were able to locate me. Things happened; I went through a deep depression and a very fearful reintegration with my father and my stepmother. He enrolled me in as many self-defense courses as I asked to be enrolled in. I may have even had him convinced that the shooting and archery were extracurricular activities, but they were a way for me to feel protected.”

“Up to and including the concealed carry permit.” Bucky nodded, “That really sucks Nat.”

“You’re good at that.” She smiled, “I hate “I’m sorry”, do you know how many times my family has said it? do you know how many times she has?”

“Them, thousands; her, none.” Bucky guessed.

“Nailed it. I know depression Bucky. I have to tell depression that I don’t have time for it. That works for me, I’m not saying it does for everybody, or even _anybody_ else. I remember something about this road, from before, and I don’t know if it’s the song? Or something I saw in a movie? But this is a _before_. _Before it happened_.

“Fate threw a depressed piece of work at you as a traveling companion, how cruel.”

“No, _fate_ gave me a friend. You’re the only person outside of my family who knows that little tidbit. I haven’t been able to figure out how or why I could tell Steve. I know he’d be a good guy about it, but…”

“But he takes everybody’s troubles and makes them his fight.”

“Yeah, he does.”

“and he’s got his work cut out with me.”

“We all do.” She teased. “So, since you’re doing a shitty job of staying awake.” Her voice belied her words, tender and slightly amused. “When we head out, go hop in the back. I think it’s been long enough. Don’t forget, I’ll be waking you in a couple of hours, unless I see something worth stopping for before then.”

“I probably didn’t hit my head.” He grumbled.

“I’m not going to explain to Steve and Sam that you probably didn’t hit your head if you die from concussion complications.”

“Ok, fine.” Bucky smiled at her, “Thanks Nat.”

“You bet. So what’s your number? You make it to a six?”

“Maybe, could be a soft five.”

“Take the five Bucky.” She covered his hand with hers, “You earned it.”

Bucky turned his hand over, gripping hers. He hadn’t had a hand to hold, he couldn’t remember how long it had been, standard answer was usually _two years_ , and that was probably about it.

“Thank you.”

Natasha let his hand drop gently before she stood up and started gathering trash. He picked up her phone and aimed the camera at her, “Hey Nat!” he got her attention as she started back, backed by the pink taco stand and a couple of umbrellas, her hair glistening red in the sun, she looked like she was the goddess of road trips or something equally corny.

She swiped her phone from him with a lazy smile, “Come on.”

“You sure about this?” Bucky asked as he climbed into the back seat, struggling to get his hoodie on straight.

“Yeah, just know, you’re driving when you’re done.”

“Ok, I hate to think that you’re doing all the work, even when I drive, you can’t sleep.”

“I’m not worried about that. I could make the nine hours myself, and you have to admit, you’ve been awake more on this trip than you’ve been recently at home.”

“Yeah, this is the most I’ve gotten out in a while.” Bucky agreed, tucking the blanket around him, so that it didn’t blow away. “It’s been a rough month.”

She waited as a couple of cars passed before pulling out. He made her smile, and for some reason he really made her feel frustrated. She walked a fine line with his moods, knowing that “yeah, it sucks” was probably the best response, but for some reason there was always so much more than ‘it sucks’ that she wanted to say to him.

Now that he could, Bucky found sleep a little harder to come by, even though the same ingredients were there. His mind bounced around from the attack, ok, yeah, he might have kept the ‘the fuck?’ out of the exchange; to his feelings of inferiority, and even Natasha’s anger that he felt that way for what, he could admit, were the wrong reasons. She was impressed. He smiled and pulled his hood to cover his face.

Lying there, with the light partially blocked, he thought about her confession and his smile dissolved. “Things happened.” He could imagine the words she didn’t say, and it made him sick. She’d conned her father into weapons related activities so she could feel safe. He was just angry because he’d been mangled physically and had nobody to blame, but she could and did blame her mother. He knew, from all of the discussions with his therapist that comparing your level of bad things wasn’t healthy, but how could he be so self-absorbed?

His dreams were comprised of discussions he’d never have with her, comparing things and apologizing for being a dick because her suffering was worse. Her attacking him for being less damaged, and winning, because she had the experience of a winner, and a stronger argument. He was fitful when she gently touched his shoulder to wake him. “Hey, you’re dreaming.”

“Huh? Yeah.” Bucky looked up at the bright afternoon sky before sitting up, “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She smiled. “Can you tell me your name?”

“James Barnes. Bucky. I’m traveling with an overprotective redhead who thinks I hit my head. Her name is Natasha and she kicks ass.”

She laughed, “Ok, so no signs of concussion, but I’ll probably wake you every three hours through the end of our trip so you can say that kind of shit again and again.”

Bucky thought he might say it every time she looked at him, if she’d smile at him that way again. “Where did we end up?”

“We made it to Pops. I know we already ate, but let’s go check out the sodas of the world.”

“Oh good. A sugar rush before I have to start driving, that should help.” Bucky took Nat’s offered hand and climbed out of the car. “Is the round barn here too? Did I remember that right?”

“Yeah, we’ll check that out too, give me a chance to stretch my legs, and you a chance to wake up.”

Inside the large shop, what looked to Bucky like a giant, brightly lit convenience store, were walls of glass shelves holding rows of pop bottles arranged by color. The light shimmered through the clear liquids, making the bottles sparkle like gems. Bucky wandered around looking at the flavors when Nat called out to him.

“Hey Bucky! They have peanut butter and jelly. I haven’t found peanut butter and chocolate yet.”

“I found bacon. No biscuits and gravy yet though. Wait. We’re getting closer, ranch dressing. You want a ranch dressing pop, right Nat?”

“Nah, how about this? Buffalo wings.”

“I found your Russian pop. Here you go.” Bucky handed the soda across the aisle. “They have ice cream, wanna share a sundae?”

“Aww Barnes, you're a softie.” Nat took the bottle, “Hey, they have Grass soda and Dirt soda, but I can’t find your asphalt soda anywhere.”

“That’s ok, I’ve tasted asphalt two times in my life, and that’s two times too many.”

“Today was the more entertaining of the two.” She hip-checked him. “You can hardly even tell.”

“Thanks to you. Hey look, beef jerky soda. Now we won’t have to buy both.”

“You get that. I think you’ll love it.” Nat laughed, nudging Bucky toward the order counter. They looked at the menu for a minute before agreeing on the Ice Cream Sandwich Sundae.

“What the hell?” Bucky laughed. “We’re going to have to be rolled out of here.”

“That’s going to be an adventure.” Nat agreed, “Of course, we don’t have to finish it.”

They sat at a table with the large sundae between them, each choosing their favorite parts. Bucky watched Natasha lick a drizzle of hot fudge and cream from her thumb as she looked around the place. When she looked back at him, he was still watching her.

“What?”

“What? Oh, sorry, I was just – I wind up staring at you when you’re enjoying things.”

“I enjoy a lot of things. You must stare often.”

“I guess I do.” Bucky blushed, he picked a peanut butter cup out of the ice cream and toppings, “It’s reassuring to see someone who loves things. It’s inspiring maybe.”

“Did you ever own the five?”

“Yeah, we made it to five today, not bad. I haven’t been this focused on what my days – my moods – were like in months.”

“Maybe you can keep it going now. I’ll bet there’s an app for that.”

“Maybe. I mean, yes, I’ll try to keep better track, and maybe there’s an app for that. If not, maybe I could develop one.”

“You could. That would be amazing.” She watched as he picked more candy out from the ice cream, licking the goop before nibbling the chocolate away from the peanut butter filling. “I’m done with this monstrosity. Do you want any of the very weird sodas?”

“No.” he laughed, “Not even one of them. Root beer, cola, maybe a _normal_ fruit cream, like black cherry, or orange.

“Ok.”

“But I’m done too, so I can lend a hand. Just the one.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She shook her head. “I know.”

“You sound like you’ve heard it before? Maybe I did hit my head.”

“I heard _that one_ before too.”

“Oh, ok. You’re in for a boring ride then. Those are my two jokes.”

They stocked up on sodas, or pop, if you asked Bucky. Bucky took the big bag of ice under his arm, carrying it to the car. He filled the tank while Nat arranged bottles in the cooler and added ice. “We’re starting to work like a well-oiled machine.” He said as he hung the hose on the pump. “Can’t seem to stop looking over my shoulder for bikers with bad attitudes.”

“You’ll get over it. Hey, we’re three hours out from our motel. You think you can make the whole drive?”

“Yeah,” Bucky gave a bashful smile, “maybe even without tears.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the delightful [Naomi Lasenby](https://lasenbyphoenix.tumblr.com/post/158793190094/artwork-for-how-we-get-there-by)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suicide attempt is mentioned a multiple times and past underage sexual abuse is implied (does not happen between main characters)

Bucky wasn’t sure whether sunrise over Shamrock Texas, and the Tower Station, was prettier than sunset, or if it was just because day three was a much better day. They were in the car early, and he found himself grinning at the art deco Tower Station – that was nearly exactly rendered in the Cars movie as Ramone’s shop. He shot Steve pictures as soon as they were in the car after taking a couple of selfies.

“What’s first? Or should I say next?” Bucky asked, pulling out the notebook.

“We’re going to tag stuff.” Nat grinned. “You didn’t know I have cans of spray paint in the trunk, did you?”

“I’m beginning to wonder about that trunk, is it Timelord Science? Bigger on the inside?”

“I’m good at packing.” She replied, kicking the stereo up, blasting _Route 66_ as she sped out onto the highway. “So, were are you today?”

“I’m leaning on a soft three, thank you very much. I’m sorry I crashed on you last night.” He yelled over the stereo and the air.

Natasha waited til the song ended before turning it down, “No problem, I figured the sugar got us to the motel, and the crash held off until you got to the bed.”

“You’re probably right. Cold pizza for breakfast was inspired.” He teased.

“Well, I was hungry, even if you were dead to the world, I figured I’d eat until I couldn’t anymore, and if you got up hungry later, or whatever.”

“So tagging stuff?”

“Yeah, you know about Cadillac Ranch, right?”

“Yeah. Hell yeah, we’re tagging the cars?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to get some decent pictures, because they repaint the cars seasonally or whatever. We wouldn’t be able to come back and see it again. Start thinking about what you want to paint. There’s also the VW Slug Bug ranch, if you want to do some practicing. They’re about an hour and a half and two hours out.”

“Ok so, road music? I like your spirit there, with the theme song. That was cute.”

“Gee thanks. Maybe we’ll start every leg with it, like commercial breaks on the news or something.”

“Suit yourself, it’s your road trip. Hey, Steve loved the Tower.” Bucky said, showing Nat the face of his phone, “I mean, he said, “God I wish I could take that trip!”.”

“He’d be so fucking green.” Nat laughed. “We’ve got to find a cure, a remedy, something. He’s such a Disney nerd.”

“It’s hard to see you laugh about it, I feel so horrible every time it happens.”

“I’m not being mean,”

“No, I know, I truly see the humor. Steve teases about it all the time, but just thinking about him doubled up and missing everything. He’d be so much worse than I was yesterday, and he wouldn’t see any of it.”

“You really do love the guy.” Her voice was filled with awe.

“You know, we’re brothers in every way that counts. I’m gonna make these past two years up to him, somehow. People don’t think I know what I’ve done to him, like Sam? I think he thinks I’ve been oblivious, but I really do know, and I hate it, I hate it while it’s happening, and afterward.”

“I know. I believe you Bucky.” She put her hand on his thigh, “So, did you send enough pictures that he’d be ok missing it and still horribly jealous?”

“Yeah. He should be good for a while. He was more disappointed that nobody was up yet to take our pictures than we were, but he says the selfie’s “ok”.”

They drove past the VW Ranch and Nat laughed, “You were a terrible navigator.”

“You couldn’t see that?” he laughed with her, as she made a u-turn and another, getting back to the side of the road so they could leave their mark.

“Of course I saw it, as I flew past it. You’re supposed to say, “Coming up on the right, keep an eye out and for fucks sake slow down.” You’re fired as navigator.”

“Ok, that just means you have to shift _and_ navigate.” Bucky shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head as he got out of the car.

Nat pulled a box out of the deepest part of the trunk with a half dozen cans of spray paint. As much as the cars buried nose deep in the earth were covered with graffiti, Bucky felt a bit like a vandal, and his paranoia had him looking over his shoulder at the road.

“What are you worried about? It’s called the graffiti corridor, these, the ones up ahead and a place somewhere in California if we feel inclined, we can hit that too.” Nat found a spot on one of the more intact cars and started spraying a colorful backdrop, she turned to hand a can to Bucky but he wasn’t at her side, she looked around and found him crouched by one of the front fenders, painting a “3”. She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a little rub. “Good. Threes are good.”

“I thought it was a good idea.”

“Come help me with my masterpiece. We need to perfect it before we get to the Caddies.”

“Ok, just what is this masterpiece of yours?”

“I don’t know. It’s not mine really, ours. Symbolic of our trip and us being here.”

“Red for your hair.” He teased.

She tossed him a red spray paint can, which he caught with ease. “We’re going to the observatory, it was our first deal. Maybe a star?”

“A concave decagon? Or a realistic red dwarf?”

“Oh shut up.” She shoved at his hip, “save your scholarship crap for Stanford.”

“Ok, so a realistic red dwarf it is.” Bucky said, stepping up to the roof of the car. He started with a circle of paint, laughing when she groaned, “Oh, you meant the concave decagon, starting at point a, and a nice smooth stroke to point b.”

“You’re _not going to narrate_ painting a pentagram are you?”

“Should I not?”

“Do you want pink spray paint on your hoodie? I have a few design ideas I’d like to put there. Symbolic of our trip and how you got out of that guy’s hold yesterday.”

“You would not paint a pink phallus on my hoodie.”

“It’s called a cock, or a dick. Both terms I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“I thought we were still being scholarly.”

“Maybe even prick.” She muttered, picking up the pink can and raising it. Bucky reached to grab for it, forgetting again that there was no hand to grab anything with. He did trap her wrist under his arm briefly, watching her laugh. He licked his lips, hesitating before he turned away, releasing her.

Natasha watched as he returned to the pentagram, feeling the warmth in her cheeks and the sharp edge of her teeth as she bit into her lip. Was he going to kiss her and did he change his mind? Or did she imagine it?

Bucky painted inside the lines, finishing the shape of the star, “hand me another color.”

She tossed him another can and he outlined the star. He added his name, leaving room for her to add hers. He watched her paint her name, trying to figure out why he didn’t just kiss her. All of the reasons flooded his mind in answer, ‘you’re pretty screwed up, just because she’s being nice to you, doesn’t mean she wants you to’, ‘if she was interested, things would be awkward the rest of the way’, ‘they’d be especially awkward if she wasn’t interested’, ‘she’ll flatten you’. There was a whole host of other thoughts that he crammed down. He picked up a blue can and went back to the wheel with the three, and added to it, the date, and his initials.

She stepped back to view their work and he was gone again.  This time she turned toward her car before walking around and finding him crouched there again. “Still a three?”

“Yeah, I just had to sign and date it, so that it feels permanent.”

“It will be, at least, it will still be under the next layers of paint. I’m also taking a picture, so it’s going to be permanent for you. It exists, and it will follow you.”

“Creepy.” He grinned, looking up at her. “Thanks for the visual of it still being here after. I like that.”

“Any time. You know, if you move over just a little, lean against the car, I can get a shot of you there too.”

Bucky duckwalked toward the car so that he wasn’t blocking the number and he smiled at Natasha when she crouched down in front of him, taking the picture head on, instead of from above. “You have a good eye.”

“You haven’t seen it yet.”

“I imagine it looks better from this angle, therefore, you have a good eye.”

“Thanks.” She held a hand out to help him up, tugging, though not with the same force she’d whipped him to his feet the day before. He took the phone from her and shot a couple of pictures of her in front of the star she’d added highlight details to, before handing the phone off again for his own.

“Now, both of us, we’re getting good at this dual selfie thing.” She announced. “Thanks for humoring me all the way with the pictures, especially the selfies. It would suck to look back on this and just see my face.”

“I don’t know about that. You have a nice face.”

Her “nice face” lit up with a smile as he took the picture. He held her phone for her to take, glancing at her sheepishly. She thanked him and started packing the paints in the box. He was going to have to get a handle on this sometime soon. What was he doing? Another second and he would have kissed her. He was going to have to figure out how to distance himself; he couldn’t keep letting her escape be the only thing keeping him from ruining this trip. Kissing her and avoiding her were both sure bets for doing just that.

She was going to stop expecting things, she wasn’t misreading the flirtatious moments, and she was almost positive she wasn’t projecting. He wanted to kiss her. She was going to have to take matters into her own hands, the next time he said something sweet or did something cute if not before.

Bucky took the keys from Natasha’s back pocket as she reached over the side of the car to put the box of paint into the back seat. He slid into the driver’s seat, dropping his shades over his eyes. Cadillac Ranch was about a half-hour away, they could improve upon their art, and then he thought he remembered the distance from their motel, “Did you say we were staying in Santa Fe? Or did you decide to bypass it?”

“That’s up to you, Tomorrow is just a little longer than today, so I thought we could see a bit of Santa Fe tonight and some in the morning before we head to Flagstaff.” She sat in the passenger seat, buckled in, and closed the door before resting her hand on the gearshift. “Unless you want to get to flagstaff earlier.”

“Your giant is there too, right? I mean in Flagstaff. Will we have enough time?”

“Yeah, the motel isn’t far from the university where Louie lives now, We can see that the next morning.”

“If it all comes together then I say Santa Fe sounds great.” Bucky started the car and waited for her to put it in gear, “You had two different pages of notes, so I didn’t know what the final plan was.”

“The final plan will be Santa Fe.” Nat shifted, gears, the two of them working as a team to get up to speed, “When we stop again, I’ll confirm the one and cancel the other reservation. Thanks for being so patient with my crazed itinerary.”

“It’s not. It’s well crafted. Thanks for being patient with my moods and with me getting threatened with a beating.”

“The one I knew was possible, the other was, well, that was crazy. We should have pressed charges.”

“I should have, never mind, I shouldn’t. I’m fine, even with the consistent wake up calls through the night, I do remember them by the way.”

“You do? You remember complimenting me?”

“Yeah, I said you kick ass, and that was yesterday. I’m not concussed. I didn’t say anything extra and then forget it.”

“You said I was pretty.” Nat’s eyes sparkled, “After I finished what pizza I wanted, I put it across the room, came back to your bed, and sat on the edge. You didn’t stir, not even when I called your name. I was tempted to sprinkle cold water on you, but I was nice. I shoved you.”

“That’s not nice.” He grumbled and she laughed.

“I asked if you knew your name, and if you knew where we were. You told me your name, and the name of the motel, but not the town. I figured that was good enough, so I told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.”

“None of that says “you’re pretty”.”

“I could adopt your sense of humor and say “you just said it.” she raised an eyebrow, “But you did say it last night. You watched me get under the covers, and when I repeated that it was ok to go to sleep, you said you would close your eyes in a minute.”

“I’m starting to think you’re making this up, or I really did hit my head.”

“I asked why you needed a minute, and you said you weren’t through looking at me.”

“I’m a creep.” Bucky blushed.

“You said you couldn’t stop because I was pretty.”

“I’m a nerd and a creep.” Bucky felt mortified. “I’m so sorry Nat.”

“Don’t be sorry, I once had a friend who would appear very awake, have detailed conversations, and not remember a thing about it. I think it might have been a combination of the long day, all the sugar, and your meds.” She smiled over at him, “Besides, it was cute.”

“You might be right about the cause, but that’s _not cute_ Nat. That is creepy.”

“It got lost in translation, it was very sweet.”

“I’m glad you think so. The alternative just makes me feel terrible.”

“The _second time_ I woke you…”

“Oh god, please no.”

“I’m kidding, you just answered the questions, _including_ the name of the town.”

“Oh good.” Bucky laughed, “I’m mortified Nat.”

“You shouldn’t be, you weren’t creepy you were a gentleman.”

“Staring at you while you get into bed.” He shook his head. “I just…”

“You wanna let me be the judge of whether or not I should feel creeped out?”

“Ok.” He conceded. “You’re the judge.”

She laughed softly as she turned the music up. His mortification was even cuter than his sleepy compliment had been, and this wasn’t a guy she’d classify as _cute_. No, there was something more, when he was sure of himself, when he forgot to be apologetic about things, he could be smooth. There had been moments where he’d radiated sexiness and she was a moth to that particular flame.

Bucky wondered if there were other humiliating secrets that she was sitting on. He had forgotten about that little quirk. He’d grown out of it, but after the accident, maybe after starting the antidepressants, the confusional arousal, or sleep drunkenness started up again. He didn’t think about it, because Steve had always known about it, and it was joke worthy between them. He didn’t know how to feel about it happening around Natasha. Embarrassed, obviously.

“Bucky, you’re going to want to take the frontage road, it’s off the highway. Then a left. You ok?”

“Yeah, just still thinking about creepy sleep-talking.”

She smiled and rested her hand on his arm, “Don’t worry about it. It was _not_ creepy.”

“I should have thought to warn you, I do that sometimes. Thought I’d grown out of it, but the meds or maybe the head injury, Steve’s used to it.”

“You do anything creepy to him?”

“No, we just laugh about what I swear I didn’t say, he makes up questions to ask me just for shits and giggles.”

“Rude.”

“Yeah. I guess it lasts like five or ten minutes, So if you want a real conversation, I guess give me fifteen if you wake me.”

“At least the concussion wake-up calls aren’t a thing anymore.” She smiled, moving her hand from his arm. “Go right.”

Bucky followed her directions, pulling up behind another car. They saw a couple of people wandering around the line of Cadillacs, Natasha grabbed the box of paints and they made the trek across the dirt. There was graffiti painted into the dirt leading up to the cars as well as the vivid rainbow of the automotive pillars.

“So, same design?” Bucky asked as they walked alongside one another.

“Yeah, together. If you want to leave another number behind, that’s cool. I think I might mess around too.”

“You have something in mind?” He stopped when she did, facing her.

“Not yet.” She grinned. She dropped the box between them and pulled out two cans, handing him one. He tucked it under his arm and held a hand out for the other can. She shrugged and handed it to him, before retrieving two more for herself. “If you’re gonna be that way about it.”

Bucky chuckled, the idea to tuck the second can under his arm and reach for her face came over him before he could push it aside. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Her lashes flicked upward, her green eyes were dark, wide, and expressive as she searched his face, “Well, why don’t you?”

His hand slid over her cheek and neck, and his fingers spread out at the back of her head, sliding through her silken curls, he lowered his head and licked his lips just before they reached her own pink lips. She breathed softly between them, cooling the slicked skin of his lips. She smelled like vanilla and coffee as he brushed his lips across hers. They were as soft as he thought they’d be and softer, but perfectly pliable as they chased after his initial retreat. He looked at her and smiled before kissing her lips again tenderly, and his nose softly bumped her cheek, as he couldn’t quite bring himself to break contact.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day, and maybe part of yesterday.” Bucky said, breathlessly, still holding her close, his forehead just touching the curls across hers.

“I was about to make the first move.” She grinned, flicking her lashes up again, her eyes brighter, and twinkling.

“I should have made you.”

She poked him in the gut with her hand, still holding the paint can. “I know what I’m painting now.”

“A jackass to remember me by?”

“That’s a good alternative. But, no. A kiss. Lips.”

“Probably an easier thing to paint.” He nodded, running his hand down her neck and back, feeling the back of her bra, under his fingertips before he settled his hand just above the small of her back. “I think this spot might get a two.”

“A two? That’s a whole new photo op.” she smiled. She reached around behind her and took his hand in hers. “Let’s get our Picasso on.”

“I’m more of a Matisse, and I had you pegged for a Warhol.”

“Steve would be so proud of us.” She laughed, tugging him toward the Cadillac of her choice.

Bucky laughed too, following her on the short run. “He’d roll his eyes, ask us to draw something, and say we’re preschoolers.”

“He’d never do that.” Nat grinned, dropping one can and shaking the second.

Bucky followed her lead, taking one can from under his left arm and letting the other one clatter on top of her extra. He walked around to the driver’s side of the car, reaching up to paint a big green ‘2’ on the wheel of the car. His intent, once he was done, was to go check out her ‘kiss’, but he stepped back from the paint fumes of his stylized ‘2’, and just stared at it. The Christmassy, Kelly green stood out against the red and orange that had been painted under it. Just like the two stood out against the deep six or seven from the day before. He would no doubt have more sixes, but the threes and twos were a welcome reprieve.

He startled when Nat’s arms slipped around his waist from behind.

“Sorry. Should I not?” her arms tentatively loosened, and he dropped his hand to cover them.

“No, I was just surprised.”

“That’s a very festive two.” He felt the warmth of her cheek and breath on his back through the thin t-shirt.

“That it is. Green is the color of growth, though. I was disappointed that you didn’t have the screaming lime green I see on some of these.”

“No, I didn’t. Sorry.”

Bucky turned around, resting his arms on her shoulders, before dropping his right hand down her arm. “I was teasing. Please don’t apologize. Do you see that two? That’s your doing. You’re off the hook for weird color choices.”

Natasha put her hands up on Bucky’s shoulders, using them to push up to kiss him on the cheek and then lightly on the lips. When she brought her hands back down over his shoulders, they lingered on his arms, “it’s your doing, and you know it. You take the responsibility for your bad days; you’d better own the good ones.”

Bucky didn’t often let people touch his arm, but her hands, strong and firm, felt so nice. Her touch didn’t discriminate; she wasn’t treating it as a curiosity, nor was she extra careful. He didn’t move or pull away as he might have even the day before. “You're right. I do need to do that more. Can I tell you that you make me happy?”

“I’m glad.” She grinned.

“I was just thinking that it’s nice to have a couple of two and three days. I know the big ugly will come around, it always does, but remembering these will help push through that.”

“Good. Did you want to see my _masterpiece_ before we do the signature piece?”

“Yeah, let’s see your Warhol finest. Were you going to confirm the Santa Fe reservation?”

“See,” Nat pulled her phone from her pocket. “You must not have hit your head after all.”

“I thought you were going to be nice and say “that’s why I need you”.” Bucky teased.

She had painted a plump cartoon pair of lips on the door of the Cadillac, pink and red paint highlighted and shaded contours. Bucky crouched to get a closer look, “I like this. This might be better than the _signature piece._ ”

She was on the phone when he spoke, but she put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a little rub in response. Bucky stood up when Nat walked away, he saw her stoop to retrieve the box they’d left a few feet from their chosen “canvas”. She handed the box, with the two other paint colors, to him as she ended the call.

“Ok, we don’t have a room in Tucumcari, I just need to ask, they offered to upgrade the room in Santa Fe, but it’s just one bed.”

“So you think just because I let you kiss me you get to share my bed?” Bucky had the hardest time keeping a straight face.

“I mean, we don’t have to…”

“We don’t have to do anything in one bed that we didn’t do in two beds. Let’s get the upgrade, the size and quantity of mattresses doesn’t mean anything, it’s all about quality.”

That was the kind of answer she expected from Steve or Sam. She smiled, “But we could.”

“We could.” He grinned. “Let’s find out if kissing leads to other things.”

Nat called the resort in Santa Fe to confirm the upgrade, watching as Bucky painted the star. He handed her a can when she finished, and she added to the background. She took the red paint can from him and painted a trio of x's and o's in the middle.

“That’s just going to blend in, you should have…”

Nat set her hand on his, tangling her fingers with his before pulling him close. “You saw what it was. You know it’s there.”

“You make an excellent point.” He kissed the tip of her nose, “Ready to sign it?”

“Is it complete?” she asked, stepping up to the roof of the car, “I do like your more practiced work, Matisse.”

“It’s as done as it’s going to get.” He watched as she spray-painted “Tasha” and handed the can to him. She snuck up to him on the left and stood under his arm as he painted “James” right under her name. He leaned on her shoulder, “You’re not bothered by it?”

“By what, your name under mine? That’s where it belongs buster. I get top billing.”

“Funny stuff.” He looked down to see her smiling, “this.” He briefly lifted his arm, before setting it back on her shoulder, ordinarily he’d be backing up, shifting positions, but it was so nice not being so hypervigilant about not touching anybody and drawing attention to it.

“That’s just your arm, why would it bother me? You’re not creeping down my shirt or anything douchey.”

“Ok,” he stood still and breathed in and out. “That’s amazing. Thank you”

“You’re welcome, I’ll make a point of telling you when you’re not being douchey if that’s what makes you happy.”

They picked up their spray paint cans and stuffed them back into the box before posing for pictures. Bucky stopped someone walking past and asked if they would please take their picture and Nat made sure at least one of the shots had them kissing next to their art.

Once they were back in the car, on the road to their next stop, which was whatever struck their fancy, Bucky asked Natasha to turn the stereo down.

“You know that wasn’t what made me feel overwhelmed, right?”

“What?”

He looked at her intensely, briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I think you could portray a douche if you tried to, but it wouldn’t be convincing for long. You’re a good guy.”

“Hah.” Bucky grinned, “Not exactly, but no, I’m not comfortable in the douche role.”

“Your arm is just your arm Bucky. It’s not a “this”. If people stare, it’s because they have a short between their brains and their eye sockets. That’s a much bigger impairment, if you ask me.”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Not long after I recovered from the – well the second time I almost died – I met someone and I thought it might be nice to have someone to share time with, I was supposed to start getting out and she seemed ok. I didn’t get a chance to find out if I was ready for that kind of thing, turned out she had an amputee fetish. So I get weirdos wanting me for my stump, and I get people who just want to openly stare, while they try to figure out why it’s short or why my shirt sleeve is flapping. Others shy away as if whatever took my arm off above the elbow will jump off of me and start eating their limbs too.”

“You’re a real plague.” She rolled her lips, trying not to laugh.

“I know, it’s hilarious, I get it, it’s funny.”

“Until it’s not.” Nat said softly, setting her hand on his leg. “I knew about your injury from Steve, I’ve worked with amputees in my business. I’m not curious about it. I’m curious about you.”

“I don’t know what to say, I feel like I should keep thanking you, and I know I’m still annoying by doing it.”

“You can say, or not say, anything you need to.”

“I think we need the music back. I’m getting tired of hearing myself.”

“Ok, you pick.”

“Gimme some Cars, or Billy Idol. Make it loud.”

The stereo blasted as the car roared down Route 66 in Texas towards New Mexico. They were on the highway for about an hour before stopping at a little themed café for lunch and Nat bought them both Route 66 shirts and mugs, before they hit the road again. Bucky had tried handing the keys off but Nat brushed him off, offering to trade again when they got to Tucumcari.

Nat started singing _Shut up and Dance_ at the top of her voice, making Bucky roll his eyes, but he smiled and before he knew it, he was singing with her to _Dancing Queen_. He laughed when the song ended, “I don’t know how you do this to me.”

“I did nothing.” She grinned as The Archies’ _Sugar Sugar_ started. When Bucky sang, “You are my Candy Girl” with a little wink and a sneer over his shoulder, she giggled. She let Bucky sing the rest of the song, while she bopped and clapped along. Bucky managed to keep it straight through to the end of the song, but realized he would never make a serious performer, laughing over the fade out.

“You ditched me.” He accused, “You just let me go ahead and make a fool of myself.”

“You have a wonderful singing voice, I have to admit to some very warm feelings when you sang this line, “ _When I kissed you, girl, I knew how sweet a kiss could be (I know how sweet a kiss can be)_ ” Who knew you could make your voice do that?”

Bucky blushed, “I thought I was just singing.”

“If you weren’t so set on – what were you studying? Astronomy?”

“Engineering, Aeronautics and Astronautics – but yeah, I’ll be studying some astronomy in physics.”

“Well, if that doesn’t work out for you.”

“Did you see me give up at the end? Giggling like a six year old?”

“Ok, yeah, that was cute. Maybe you’re right.”

“You know I’m right.” Bucky said over Chumbawumba’s _Tubthumping_ , before he joined in. _Come and Get Your Love_ had them both back to singing at full volume and there was no hesitation when _Ain’t No Mountain High Enough_ started to just keep on singing.

Bucky jumped when he heard and felt a thump under the car, Nat watched, expecting to grab the wheel if he needed help as the rush of air and thump, thump, thump of the blown tire slowed the car. Bucky kept a firm hand on the wheel, removing his foot from the gas and pulling to the side of the road. He let the car slow to a stop before braking. His heart hammered in his chest and he knew he was sweating. Nat turned the car off, switching on the flashers, and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s temple. “You ok?”

“Yeah.” He breathed. “Minor heart attack.”

She rubbed his arm before climbing out the passenger door and opening the trunk with the key. She moved the gym bags to the ground and removed the spare tire they had been resting on. She dug out the jack as Bucky came around the car. “Emergency brake’s on, what can I do?”

“Will you set up this hazard kit? Turn the music back on too.” She smiled, handing him the bag and the key. “You're sure you’re ok?”

“Don’t I look ok?”

“You look panicked; I can’t imagine the impact feeling was a welcome one.”

“Ok, no. That wasn’t, but I’m ok, I’m working on ok.” He went to make the area safer, watching occasionally as she set the jack under the car. He should be doing that. You break it you fix it, but he took keeping her safe just as seriously, putting out the signage and flares. He moved back to the car and flipped the ignition to accessory, letting the music play, before going to her side. He crouched next to her, “sorry I broke your car.”

“Yeah, you should be.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Driving it on hot asphalt like that, Did you sabotage the tire too?”

“Figured it would be fun. What’s a road trip without a breakdown. But wait, I had one of those too.”

“You did, should have considered that. You’re not beating yourself up because you're the man and should be changing my tire, are you?”

“I was. Not the man thing, it’s a remorse thing. I broke your car.”

“It’s a chivalry thing, and you’re trying not to be a chauvinist. I like it. Why don’t you make it up to me by singing again?”

Bucky chuckled, standing up when he got the urge to lean against the car she had lifted from the ground. “You’d like that.”

“Yeah I would.” She smirked up at him, returning to the task at hand.

He watched as she worked the jack to lift the car’s wheel further from the ground, now that she’d loosened the lug nuts. He started bashfully singing along to Earth Wind & Fire’s _September_ , thinking that every song he sang with her, or to her, today had to do with dancing or kissing. He started making gestures that he knew she could see in her periphery, maybe to distract her, or maybe just to keep the smile on her face. When _Moves Like Jagger_ started, he was all about the production.

Nat had to stop what she was doing when she turned to set the ruined tire aside and saw him doing a damned good Mick Jagger strut. She sat back on her heels and watched, laughing every time he made eye contact. She had to wait until he was finished before she could feel competent enough to put the spare, a full sized tire, thank you very much, back on the car.

Once the tire was changed, the old one covered up in the trunk, and their bags back in place, Nat wrapped her arms around Bucky’s waist. “I’ll drive. I’m sure superstars like you don’t need the extra headache.”

“I’m ok.”

“I know, we’re just a little bit shy of where I was going to take over. You get first shift tomorrow anyway.”

“Oh, well as long as you still trust me.” Bucky put his hand on her cheek, “You read me like a book.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” She smiled up at him, “I just wanted to drive my own car, that’s all.”

Bucky closed the trunk and walked around the car to the passenger seat, “She’s all yours.” He smiled, smugly. He reached down and untied his sneakers while she got into the car, and pushed each one off with the opposite foot, before propping his feet up on the dash. “Drive on.”

“What, no cigar? You’re not going to pull the pillow behind your head and order a whiskey, “neat”?”

“No, there’s no whiskey or cigars, don’t be ridiculous.” He started to move his feet but her hand on his knee stopped him.

“I told you on the first day you could. Go ahead.”

“I was afraid of you on the first day.” He admitted.

“I know, that was really cool.” Nat teased, starting the car and pulling forward, watching over her shoulder for traffic. She eased onto the highway and set her hand on his leg.

Bucky took her hand in his right hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. “Was it a long con? Dropping little scary things for Steve to say to me, getting me all afraid of his trainer buddy, and then you two set me up for a road trip with the scary Russian woman?”

“You found us out.”

“For what purpose though? Was I that much trouble? Are you going to off me in the desert?”

“Yeah, it was supposed to go down like that, somewhere across Texas, but we overshot and made it to New Mexico, so now I’m off mission.”

He could almost believe her, she was that badass and that convincing. “You’re giving me the creeps with that look.”

She rolled her eyes, tossing her hair, and giggled, “Another problem, I didn’t bring any weapons. I missed my chance back there changing tires. I could have intimidated you into trying, and dropped the car on you.”

“You’re evil.” He laughed. “That’s an evil thought.”

“I know.” She winced, “It’s ugly and gross.”

“It’s creative, “oops, no weapons, accidental death it is”. I had to move away from the car when you were working on it, I was afraid I’d lean back or fall back and drop the car on you, so yeah, that’s clever and gross.”

“You’re safe with me, there was no long con. I don’t know why you were afraid of me. That sounds to me like Steve was being a tool.”

“No, I’m sure it was just in my head, dark thoughts about Steve having friends who were better for him than I’ve been.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t _mean_ maybe, but he was having the epiphany on his own, he didn’t need her to second the voice.

“You could probably still kick my ass.”

“You know I can. If you bust out your Jagger moves though, I think I’d forget I was supposed to.”

Bucky settled in for the ride, eventually putting his feet down. He held her hand as long as she’d let him, gripping it tenderly each time she put it out for him after shifting. He slid down in his seat, leaning his head against the seat back and watched the side of the road, occasionally glancing at Natasha, and smiling over the beauty of the curve of her cheek or the red of her curls.

“I’m losing you, aren’t I?” she asked at one point, having done most of the singing herself for the last few dozen miles.

“Nope, just watching. I’m used to this particular speed of doing things, but usually I’m not seeing anything new. Just the television or a video game.”

“Is this better? Or the same?”

“Better. Tell me about you Natasha.”

“I’m a daddy’s girl. I was before everything, and for a while after, I really wasn’t. I thought he’d hate me because of everything that happened. I thought he let her do it, and then I thought he blamed me for it. I was still pretty young when I realized none of those things was true.

“He gave me space, and he gave me love. He gave me anything I wanted; luckily I wasn’t the Violet Beauregarde type.”

“Lucky.” Bucky agreed, caressing the soft skin of her wrist with his thumb. “You’re Russian, was this here or there?”

“There first. Things got better for both of us, and my stepmother, when we came here. I’ve called her that twice; I call her that only to people who don’t know. If I say my “ _mom_ ”, that’s who I’m talking about. I won’t ever call that other woman _mom_.”

“Ok, gotcha.” Bucky smiled, “Vermont? Is that where you started out here in the states?”

“No, we were in New York for a little bit, I almost went to school in Brooklyn. I wasn’t ready though, they held me out, homeschooling me for a year, we moved to Vermont that first winter. I think it was because of me, but Papa never said so.”

“So you could have been a Brooklyn kid. If that had happened, do you think we’d have met sooner?”

“I don’t know, on the one hand, Brooklyn isn’t a small town, but on the other hand, we did meet, so who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened?”

“Thank you.” Bucky said quietly. “For telling me something so personal.”

“You’ve been open with me, painfully so, I couldn’t imagine being false and closed off with you.”

“You have an amazing heart.” Bucky shifted in his seat so that he was sitting upright again. “We just passed a sign for the Santa Fe turn off, did you see how far ahead?”

“No, I’ll keep my eyes out.”

They were quiet for the rest of the drive to Santa Fe, listening to the music as it played, each of them thinking about the other. Steve knew a good portion of what Natasha had told Bucky, and they were the only ones outside her family that she’d confided in. She could have told him about high school, or about dance, or anything, but she went back to the point in her life where she hurt worse than she could ever be hurt again. It made sense and at the same time it didn’t. She’d never bared her soul just so someone else could relate, but somehow, she wanted him to know it could get dark, and become light again, permanently. She’d tell him the shadows still crept in sometimes at a later revelation.

Bucky wanted to throttle the woman who hurt Natasha, and he wanted to meet the people who fought for her. Hearing her story, he now knew how she came to be so strong, and what drew Steve to her. Steve thrived around people who saw past his disabilities. Bucky liked it too. He smiled thinking about how she’d always chased Steve home from workouts with demands for more next time, and how Steve had always cursed her as he came through the door. Yet when Bucky would tell him to dump her and get a new trainer, Steve would groan and say, “No, I like the challenge.” Of course he did, and Bucky thought maybe he was afraid to quit, both out of pride and because this woman was brutal. Bucky had let the cursing and the imagined fears of quitting grow in his own mind, making her out to be a lot scarier than she really was.

“Look,” Nat said, pulling him out of his thoughts, “Santa Fe.”

“Already? I’ve been daydreaming for an hour?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Let’s get to our hotel, get cleaned up, and go check out the area.”

“As long as checking out the area includes food, I’m in.” Bucky watched as they made their way toward The Plaza. After the places they’d stopped the last couple of nights, from the quaint Wagon Wheel to the basic motel in Shamrock, he wasn’t prepared for La Fonda Hotel.

The historic adobe building was beautifully decorated with wood elements that made Bucky feel instantly grounded. All of the chrome and brightly colored plastic and vinyl from all of the kitschy diners had been fun, but the warm wood, and stone, paired with desert reds and blues were relaxing. Their room was spacious, and the headboard on the king-sized bed was hand painted, situated next to a door that opened to a balcony overlooking The Plaza.

Natasha was torn between taking in all of the beauty and watching Bucky. She took his bag from him as he stood looking around the room. “You approve?”

“I approve. You don’t have to do that.” He tried taking the bag from her, she smiled at him as she set both bags in the bottom of the wardrobe.

“I know, but I don’t mind helping. It looked like you were busy.”

“Standing here catching flies?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and took her shoes and socks off, stretching her toes. “If that’s what you were doing. Come, sit down.” She crawled deeper into the center of the pillowy comforter, rubbing his shoulders as he took his shoes off. “I didn’t realize it was so palatial.”

“I didn’t think, I… I think I want to live here.”

“I know.” She kissed the back of his neck, “It will be hard to go back to motels.”

Bucky leaned back against her, “You’ve got to be kidding.” He groaned at the thought, as she moved her hands down the front of his chest.

“Sorry, future discussions are on hold. Nothing exists outside of this place and time until we leave tomorrow.”

“Ok, yeah. I like that.”

“Have we moved past kissing yet?” Natasha asked quietly against his ear. “Will you be joining me in my shower?”

Bucky put his hand on hers, desperately wanting what she offered, and anxious about how he’d appear to her with his scars uncovered. Maybe if he stood up now, taking off his clothes like ripping off a Band-Aid, the ridicule or acceptance would be over. Maybe he could wait and sneak in while she was already in the shower, and… “stop.”

“We don’t have to.” She started to back up, but his grasp on her hand tightened.

“I didn’t mean you. I meant me.” He turned toward her, putting his leg up on the bed. ‘Option one it is’, he thought as he hesitated before taking his t-shirt off. “I was anguishing about this.”

She saw his scars, but she also saw his physique, and the look of uncertainty on his face. “May I?”

He nodded as she reached out for the scars over his shoulder and down his side. Her fingers gave him a variety of sensations, from tingling, to barely registered touches. Her gaze flitted from his face to the trail her fingertips traced. “Ouch.” She smiled up at him.

“Worse than this, actually.” He smiled back lifting his arm. She inspected the scars there, touching them softly.

“I believe it. So, now that you managed to get past that step, was that a ‘yes I’ll join you’?”

He reached for her, rubbing his thumb across her bottom lip and smiling as he leaned closer, claiming that lip for his own. “Yes.” He said between kisses, “I’ll join you.”

She slid the hair tie out of his hair, running her fingers through it, “I’ve been dying to do this.”

He leaned into her touch, savoring the sensation of her fingers on his scalp, and the feeling of being close to her. “It’s been a long time since anyone did that.”

“I can tell, you’re like a cat.” She kissed his forehead, “come on, let’s check out the bathroom.”

He followed her, with zero intentions of seeing the bathroom. He was distracted by his preoccupation with other things. Her little gasp when they reached the doorway swayed his plans. The spacious room was all white tile and rustic accents, yet modern and bright. “Nice.” He said, nodding and kissing the top of her head. “Very nice.”

“Shower or bath?” she asked, clearly coveting the roomy tub footed by a ledge stacked with plush towels.

“I haven’t taken a bath, not a real one, in a long time.” He put his hand on her lower back, urging her further into the bathroom.

She drew the bath, filling it with bubbles and warm, almost hot, water. “Let me know if this is the right temperature.” She turned, suddenly feeling a little nervous, seeing him in the intimacy of the bathroom with his shirt off, and his hair caressing his shoulders.

He held his fingers under the faucet and let it run over his wrist before turning to see her pulling her shirt over her head. When she was free of the garment, she saw the smile teasing the side of his mouth. She reached for him, kissing the corner where the smile curled. His hand over her back was gentle but wet. She flinched slightly and took a step back, unclasping the front fastener of her bra. The raspberry colored garment slipped over her skin and hit the floor with a faint clatter.

She grinned as she watched him trying not to stare, and he laughed at his timidity, pulling her back into his space with his hand on the back of her neck. He kissed her roughly as his hand dragged down the front of her neck before grazing the curve of her breast. She unfastened his waistband and then her own as his fingers explored the weight and shape of her breast and his mouth tested the flavor of her skin.

Bucky watched Natasha shimmy out of her jeans, and licked his lips as she put her hands on Bucky’s waist, slipping them down along the curve of his ass. She pushed his pants and boxer briefs down over his thighs, while kissing the line of his sternum, feeling his heart pounding with her lips and tongue. She looked up to see him watching her intently. “Water’s about right.” She said absently, turning the faucet off before climbing into the garden tub.

He steadied himself with a hand on her shoulder while he stepped on the hem of his jeans, tugging his leg out, repeating for the other side. Natasha covered his hand with hers, squeezing. He grasped her hand as he stepped into the tub, and she tugged him closer as soon as he cleared the tub wall. Bucky laughed as he was propelled toward her and she wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss unlike any they’d shared yet, possibly unlike any he’d ever experienced.

He slipped his arm around her waist and hoisted her off her feet, setting her on the ledge that was as high as his hip. The water sloshed around his calves, and pretty sounds escaped her throat as she drew his focus back to the kiss. Her arms slid down over his, and she gripped his biceps when he steadied himself with his arm on the ledge, to lean into the kiss.

He felt her hands on his arms, a strong grip, supporting his weight and possessive at the same time, Bucky dipped his forehead to her shoulder, breathing in the moment, blinking back tears. Her hand moved up his right arm to the back of his head and her fingers massaged wide arcs across his scalp as she wrapped her legs around his waist drawing him closer. “Firsts aren’t always easy,” she whispered tenderly.

“It’s easy,” he kissed her shoulder, “it’s just been so long.”

“I want you James.”

“I haven’t wanted anything – anyone – the way I want you Natasha.” He smiled a bashful smile as he squeezed his eyes shut before continuing with a nervous laugh, “I’m gonna need your help. First time trying this, since this.”

“It’s not a solo activity.” She laughed, kissing his jaw, “I’m sure we can work it out.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the delightful [Naomi Lasenby](https://lasenbyphoenix.tumblr.com/post/158793190094/artwork-for-how-we-get-there-by)


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky watched from the balcony as Natasha walked across the room in her underwear, he smiled when she looked at him. She had ogled him when he crossed the bathroom and pulled the soft robe off the hook, covering up slowly while she leaned on her arms on the tub’s edge. She followed not long after, drying her skin while he watched. Her movements were graceful, and she was better than any work of art, he’d argue for decades with Steve over this fact.

Natasha grinned at his blatant voyeurism as she fastened the white and floral bra. He sat comfortably in the sun, having added boxer briefs under his robe. “We never discussed dinner.” She said from the doorway.

“We didn’t. Our mouths were otherwise occupied. What did you have in mind?”

“The restaurant in the hotel has great reviews, it also feels a little like a copout.” Natasha crossed the balcony and sat on Bucky’s lap, “Did you want to explore before or after food?”

“We could explore, see if we find food, and if nothing else, we can come back to the hotel restaurant.”

“I thought that too, just didn’t want you to say I starved you at any point in the trip.”

“I did miss dinner last night.” He covered her ribs with his hand, “You can see where I might start to get that idea.”

“Come on then. We’re burning daylight.” Natasha stood up, pulling him along by the elbow. “You’re not even dressed.”

“We’re not.” He corrected, “I mean unless this is the new fashion?”

“Could be, I haven’t been outside yet to see, maybe we should play it safe and use the classic approach.” She pulled out both bags, setting them side by side on the bed. “I almost feel like unpacking, it’s so nice here, but we’re just going to leave again.”

“Yeah, you should do it if that’s what you want.”

“Speaking of unpacking, you’re only taking three boxes, how much did it cost to ship the rest?”

“I only have the three boxes, there is no ‘rest’.” He sat down on the bed, he’d removed the robe and was holding a t-shirt in his hands, “I gave away and sold everything I owned. I left the money for Steve. You know, when I tried to kill myself.”

“I didn’t think, but that was over a year ago.”

“I haven’t exactly been motivated to replace all of my worldly goods. The good news is, I could live in one of those tiny houses really easily.”

“That’s why Steve wanted you to buy something on the trip.”

“Yeah. So thank you for the route 66 mug. I now own a coffee mug.” He grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist and burying his face in her neck.

“Mission number two for today, we seek out some other weird and wonderful souvenir, something for you to remember me by.”

“I’ll have my coffee mug.” He insisted, kissing her cheek. “But if we find something else, I’m not opposed.”

She hated the thought the minute the words were out of her mouth, once she had delivered him to Stanford, she was going back home.

He felt the change in her posture, pulling her tighter to him, “wanna talk about it?”

“I’m not sure.” She smiled, pulling back to look at him, “Maybe later.”

“I’ll be here.” He brought his hand around and up to caress her jaw, never losing contact with her skin, “I guess we should put those clothes on.”

Natasha took his hand in both of hers and kissed it, holding it against her lips for an extra moment. “Yeah, we should.”

He grinned as her lips tickled his palm, then gently pushed, “somebody has to make the first move.”

“You’re an oaf.” She spat, fighting the laugh, “not a very powerful oaf though. When’s the last time you went to the gym?”

“PT.” Bucky shrugged, digging into his bag for jeans. “Hey, are my other jeans still in the bathroom?”

“Yup, on the floor, wet.”

“That’s ok, I just need my little button helper.”

“You’re cute, you know that? Half the guys I’ve ever met wouldn’t even mention something that “helps” and the other half would give it some dragon name or some shit.”

“It doesn’t need a name, it just needs to help me keep my jeans appropriate for the public.” Bucky said from the bathroom, digging the pocketknife looking device from the front pocket.

“I know that, but that’s what makes you cute.”

“You know what’s not cute? Needing someone else to fasten your pants when you’re out is _not cute_. Besides, I went through a lot of websites before I found something that didn’t look like a crochet hook on steroids.”

“Oh, I’d volunteer. We’d be cute.” She laughed, pulling her jeans over her hips. “Show me how it works.”

He grabbed her waistband and flipped the accessory he needed out from where it was folded, “You slip this through the buttonhole, and tug it over here closer to the button, that’s the fish we want to catch.” He smiled down at her, his chin tickled by her hair, “hook the button and slide it back through the hole.”

She covered his hand with hers, looking up at him with a smile. “Ok, just so you know, that is a pretty cool tool, and it’s not hyper masculine or anything. I’d want one. In black.”

“You don’t need one.” He tossed it on the bed next to his jeans, before picking them up and sitting where they’d been lying. He pulled his jeans on, one leg at a time, watching Natasha as she finished dressing. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, I haven’t asked anybody what to wear since I was in high school, which shirt should I wear?”

“It’s still warm, so short sleeves, maybe something light.” She offered, she stood over his bag with her hand on the zipper, “May I?”

“Yeah,” he laughed “You kinda have to.”

She looked through his bag, finding a row of shirts rolled neatly along one end of the bag with any that had designs, the designs faced out. “I’m happy to see you’re not impartial to the various shades of gray.” She teased. “Here, turquoise. It complements our surroundings and we won’t clash in any pictures.”

Bucky took the shirt, brushing her fingers with his, “Your top is much prettier than mine, that won’t be a problem, will it?” his eyes trailed over her rust colored, crocheted top.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She rolled her eyes. “Get dressed.”

“I’m dressed. Hey, while you’re in there, socks please.”

She peeked through his bag, finding brightly colored socks, “Here’s where you choose to express yourself? I’m all for fun socks, but we have to bring some of this fun up closer to your face.”

“My face has enough fun already.” He said from inside the t-shirt.

“You might want to rephrase that.” Natasha teased, pulling his hair out from his collar as he straightened his left sleeve.

He started putting his socks on, while she slipped some sandals on, “Takes me twice as long to get dressed. Somehow that’s not fair.”

“I don’t mind waiting while you make yourself pretty.” She shrugged, pulling a pair of orange sneakers from the bottom of his bag, “Since we got Cadillac Ranch dirt on our travel shoes, how about some more color?”

Bucky nodded, taking a shoe, stuffing his galaxy sock covered toes into one of the orange high tops, “why not?”

Natasha worked around him, putting the bags back into the wardrobe, and piling both of their laundry into one of the hotel laundry bags. By the time she had things straightened, he was ready. “You know? I think food first, it took me so long I’m hungry now.”

“Works for me. Let’s go see if we can get a table.”

Inside the restaurant, Bucky continued to look with awe at the details; earth tones and jewel tones surrounded them. He caught Natasha watching him, “it’s so different from everything we’ve seen.”

“It’s very warm.” She smiled over her wine, “So why “Bucky”? I like James.”

“You can call me James, if you’d like. Bucky’s just a nickname I’ve had since forever. I don’t relate to ‘Jimmy’, so if someone has to lengthen my name, you know, “James, Jimmy for short”, they might as well go with Bucky – which is actually a shortened version of my middle name, Buchanan. It’s a family name.”

“So, James.” She smiled. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Bucky asked, taking her hand across the table, “I do too.”

“Can I tell _you_ a secret, James?”

“Of course.” Bucky’s smile softened, and he chewed his lip absently as she spoke.

“This is the first time, today and the other night at the barbecue joint, that I’ve had alcohol legally. We’d have it at home, Papa would give me a little, teaching me about things, and about handling it, but I’ve never gone out and gone to a bar or anything.”

“I just passed my twenty-first this march, and I don’t go out much. We’ve had friends bring beer to the apartment a few times, and I’ve bought a six-pack or two. I don’t think I’ve had wine before tonight.”

“So I’m older than you?”

“I guess, when?” Bucky nodded, watching the way her lips curved when she spoke, and how her eyes crinkled when she smiled.

“November.” She shrugged, “So not by much. Then you have some of your schooling in, right? But you’re coming back after two years?”

“Yeah, I had my freshman year under my belt. I was going to transfer to Stanford and two years and ten days ago, that was drastically delayed.”

“Steve said you were still on the fence, are you?”

“The farther I get from Chicago, the more I want to do one of two things, surprisingly neither of them is run back to Chicago. That’s changed since that first day.”

“Go to Stanford, and?” She raised her brows, holding her wine glass in both hands and looking at him across the rim.

“Go home to Brooklyn.”

“Is that where you’re hoping to settle after school?”

“Yes. I thought Chicago was a neat place, I enjoyed it, but it’s a scar I don’t think I’m ready to deal with. I want to wait for it to fade a little before I feel ok about that place again.”

“I understand. There are villages and cities in Russia that I can’t comfortably visit. Maybe someday, maybe, if they tear down the building in the one. If I don’t venture down a certain street in another.”

“Instead, we’ll cruise down Route 66, singing our lungs out.” Bucky pushed his wine glass away as he saw their food coming. “I want to check the bar out later tonight, after we find out the magic this town has to offer, but just for a modest nightcap. I don’t want another day like yesterday.”

“I don’t want that for you either. Or for me, if we’re being honest.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down at the plate, while addressing the server with a “Thank you.”

She smiled at the soft, bashful gesture, “You don’t have to be sorry. I like you James, and when you’re not feeling your best, it’s troublesome. That’s on me. A nightcap sounds good, and the Bell Tower Bar sounds very cool, I look forward to seeing the view.”

“Listen to us, “nightcap”,” Bucky laughed. “We’re so refined.”

“It was appropriate.” Natasha lifted her glass in a toast. Bucky toasted her with his water glass, grinning through the clear liquid.

After dinner, they wandered The Plaza, shopping for something to add to Bucky’s belongings. Natasha physically dragged him into a shop as soon as she saw the sign, it wasn’t until he was inside looking at dozens of brightly colored sock designs; that he figured out what the excitement was about. “Sock Magic,” he said with a laugh, “You’re kidding.”

“I didn’t conjure it, but it’s perfect.” She held up a pair of turquoise and orange socks, and some Star Wars socks. “You forget, I’ve seen your socks.”

He pulled her to him, squeezing her waist playfully, “You’ve seen more than my socks.”

“Look.” She ignored his comment, “more planet socks.”

“Look, you’re picking on the only colors I have in my wardrobe.” He teased back. “I like these.” He put his finger on a pair she’d picked up that looked like local tribal designs. “they’re soft too.”

“How about these two?” she held up another pair, similar but with different colors.

“Yeah, your turn.” He showed her an over the knee pair of black cat socks, and a blue pair similar to the ones he’d agreed to. “What do you think?”

“I love them.” She grabbed them both from his hand animatedly, “I saw another place, and I’m going to get your first housewarming gift from there.”

“Natasha.”

“James.” She put her hands on her hips, socks dangling from each side.

He tossed his head and rolled his eyes, shoving his hand deep into his pocket. “Ok. I’m not arguing.”

“Good.” She stepped up to the counter, victorious. He tried to buy the socks but she held her hand up to silence his protest. “Save your money. These are your Santa Fe souvenir socks.”

“You do know it’s legal to buy your own souvenirs, right?” Bucky asked as they walked out onto the warm street.

“I know. Thank you for letting me do it.”

“Thank you for doing it.” Bucky pouted, “I feel like a kept man.”

“You’re just being obtuse. I dragged you in there so I thought I should buy. If you want to go back and buy some more socks to prove a point, I’ll wait.”

“I’ll find something. Promise you’ll let me buy at least one of my own souvenirs.”

“We have all the way from here to California. Live a little.”

“Ok, You’re right, that’s what I’m learning to do again.” He put his arm across her waist, “Where is this next shop?”

“Just up the road, you still up for a walk?”

“Of course.”

The shop was as warm and inviting as the hotel, if a little overwhelming due to all of the beautiful art and pottery, in addition to jewelry and clothing. He couldn’t imagine what Natasha could be looking for to put in his small space at Stanford. He loved to watch her shop though, trailing a gentle finger over textiles, delicately handling the handicrafts. She stopped at a selection of knives, “This. This is what I want to get you.”

“A knife?”

“A pocket knife, it’s practical.”

“You want to get a depressed amputee a sharp weapon?”

“I want to get James a nice gift, I trust James to not use a nice gift from me to do anything stupid.”

“James is flattered.” He wandered away from her, drawn to a tooled leather purse for her. Two could play, he thought.

He was about to take it from its display when she stopped behind him, “I don’t use them.”

“Oh.”

“It’s pretty though. You have a good eye.”

“Then things are out of balance.”

“Nope, we’re just two shops in, and…”

“And we have from here to California.” Bucky nodded, “I really thought you meant something more like this.”

She ran her fingers over the square pottery dish, he could put his change, his keys, and his ‘little button helper' on it, “Would you feel better if it was something more like this?”

“Maybe, a little. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, I just… It’s so extravagant.”

“I’ll keep it. Which dish do you like best?”

He picked the one she had her fingers on, “The brown and rust in this one reminds me of the warmth of our hotel, I’ll think of all that this place means, and of you, every time I use it.”

“You’ll use it every day?” she grinned. “You’ll think about us in the bathroom every day?”

“I should have expected you to take it right there.” He laughed. “You really aren’t upset?”

“I’m not. If you only use the knife on certain occasions, that’s fine, but if you use the dish every day, that’s so much better.”

“You’re not a romantic are you Natasha?” he asked as she took the dish to the counter.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“You are a romantic?” Bucky asked, watching the transaction this time.

“No, but you’re making me feel like I’m capable of it on occasion.” Natasha smiled at the clerk and at Bucky.

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky put his arm across her back as they left the shop, sticking his hand in her pocket, “I think you’re a romantic, but you don’t like the idea. You’re a realistic romantic, not a hopeless romantic. That’s Steve. He doesn’t think he’s a romantic either. I used to be, I don’t know any more. I’m leaning toward the possibility. I just picked a piece of pottery that reminds me of our hotel, on a trip I didn’t want to take, but can’t imagine not being on, and that reminds me of a warm woman who doesn’t think she’s a romantic.”

“You’re a classic romantic.” She said, thinking, “and you’re right. I commemorated our kiss with a pair of painted lips on a Cadillac.”

“I loved that. I only wish we’d had a better camera, prints of our vandalism would make good apartment art.”

“I’ll commission Steve to paint the pictures of our painted art, how does that sound?”

“Meta.” Bucky grinned, “But cool.”

Natasha reached behind her, pulling Bucky’s hand from her pocket, and linked her fingers with his. “The sunset is beautiful.”

Bucky looked beyond the adobe buildings toward the red clouds, the sun hung low, appearing to be burning an orange hole in the surrounding red and purple hues. “It’s amazing. You don’t see that in the city. Too much dust and pollution scattering the light.”

“Should we head up to the bar to watch the rest?”

“Yeah, we had an early start and a long day.” He followed her lead as she steered them back toward the La Fonda.

“You didn’t even nap today.” She said feigning shock.

“I know. I think we’re up to a soft one today, maybe even a full-fledged one.”

“Wow. Not a zero yet, but James, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks Tasha. It has been amazing.”

“We’re up early again tomorrow, but just because I have a treat for you.”

“You’ve been treating me this whole time.” Bucky shook his head, not in disagreement, but disbelief. “Since you didn’t say ‘surprise’, may I ask what this treat is?”

“I booked us massages at the hotel spa. I thought, after days on the road, we deserved a treat. It’s not the best position to be in for hours on end.”

“My therapist has been after me to start massage therapy, says it will help with depression and anxiety, I keep telling him that it won’t help if I have anxiety about someone touching me.”

“Touching your arm?”

“Ok, yeah.” He sighed. “I’m not arguing, I’ll do it. Maybe doing it with you the first time it won’t be so bad, maybe I’ll like it, as I’ve been so enthusiastically informed I will by Steve, Sam, and my therapist.”

“Going alone isn’t always the easiest for a first time. I’m surprised your PT didn’t advise something.”

“I’m good at getting advice. I don’t always take it.”

“Ok, so I won’t give you advice, but maybe we can make a small deal. If you like the massage, will you consider doing it more in the future?”

“If I like it, I’ll do it in addition to my therapy.” Bucky conceded, it was an easy concession, really. If he liked something, how hard could it be to keep it up? “Please tell me this wasn’t some scheme between you and Steve to get me to follow my therapist’s recommendation.”

“This was me wanting to have a massage, and you admitting you’re a chicken.” She laughed, and he believed her.

“I’m not a chicken, I’m depressed.” Bucky argued lightheartedly, “Anxiety isn’t my best feature.”

The view from the fifth floor of the building, the outside terrace of the Bell Tower bar was not disappointing in the least. Natasha took a sip from her second margarita, watching as Bucky surveyed the “astronomic twilight”, holding his one glass of whiskey. He’d been nursing it since her first margarita, and he’d been quiet. She figured she’d filled enough of his space with her talking, so she sat and watched. He looked up to catch her gaze, and moved over, holding his arm out in invitation. She moved from her seat, bringing the bar-supplied blanket with her, and snuggled up to him, covering both of them.

He hadn’t intended to go silent, but it was easy to let the bustle of the seasonal patrons, the wait staff, and the music fill the air with background noise. He was used to feeling insignificant; however, the vast sense of history surrounding them didn’t have that effect. He was aware that he was _tiny_ in the grand scheme of things, but he felt as though he fit in this space and time. He didn’t want to think about Stanford, that was nothing new, but his motivation was different. Stanford meant she was leaving. He tightened his arm around her, and she set her drink down next to his, hugging him close.

He kissed the top of her head as the sky darkened. “We should head down.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that.” Her voice was low and sleepy sounding. She shifted and set the blanket aside, sliding from the seat next to him, “Come on then.”

Bucky followed, gripping her hand firmly. In the elevator, he turned to her and put his right arm on her shoulder, hugging her the best he could under the circumstances. She hugged him back. “You’d tell me if you weren’t ok?”

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’m just trying not to miss you.”

“Stop it.” She smiled tenderly. “You can’t miss me, I’m right here.”

“I know. It’s that codependency thing.” He sighed, “I mean partially.”

“We agreed the future isn’t going to touch us. We’ll see each other.”

“Yeah. We’ll see each other.”

“We still have two whole days.” She reminded him as the elevator stopped on their floor.

Bucky before going, Bucky wanted nothing to do with two days of travel, not to mention a week, now with just two days left, the urgency energized him. He kept getting in the way as Natasha tried to unlock the door, kissing her neck, bumping her arm so she would miss the card slot.

“You’re a terrible tease.” She complained, “I think I’d be in real trouble if you had two hands.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” he nibbled on the back of her neck making sucking, kissing noises.

“If you let us get into the room, there’s more waiting to be sampled.”

He waited until the door opened before slipping his arm around her waist and picking her up from behind. She slapped at his arm half-heartedly as she laughed. Her face burned hot from embarrassment over the initial squeal she’d let out. “You know, if you worked out more,” she tried to tease him, but he was manhandling her through the room with enough power that she didn’t really have an argument.

“Now you want me to go to the gym too?” he laughed against her ear, “I swear you’re reading Steve’s checklist.”

“I resent that,” She pinched his forearm and he put her down. She turned to face him, “I want credit for that list. I’m the one who told him to suggest it. Take it back.”

“You resent not getting credit?” he laughed, surprising her with a quick kiss. “You’re a very complicated person Tasha.”

“Don’t you forget it James.” She pulled him toward the chair by the fireplace and pushed him down, crawling astride his lap. She gripped his face, kissing him thoroughly.

Bucky moved his hand up Nat’s shirt, tentatively at first, until she grabbed his hand and moved it to cover her bra. Not breaking the kiss, he slid his palm over the silky fabric before finding the front clasp. Natasha wiggled on his thighs trying not to slip, and he tugged the bra, “Hey.” He groaned, “you’re making things difficult here.”

“For your pants or my bra?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “Who lit the fire?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the fireplace, “I asked to have it ready. I thought we could keep the door open for a while this should help regulate the room.”

“and it’s nice to make out in front of it.” Bucky finally got the clasp free, spreading his hand across her chest, sliding it slowly to cover her breast between her skin and the bra, “how do you do that with one hand so quickly?”

“Practice.” She smiled, running her hands through his hair, smiling down at him. “James, you’re very open about it, can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” He grinned. “I can’t exactly hide it if you people insist on making me go outside.”

“Yeah, it’s not that. I don’t want to come across as weird, you said there was that fetish girl, and I don’t…” his hand slid down her belly as he interrupted her.

“You and I have already had bathtub sex, how much more awkward do you expect things to get?” his voice was playful.

“Touch me. You start to and hesitate.”

“Aw, Nat, you don’t want that.”

“James,” she looked into his eyes, “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I want you to know that nothing bad will come of it. I swear.”

“You’re too beautiful for a guy like me.” His smile was tender as he raised his arm to brush her cheek, “An awkward guy, who knows how lucky he really is.”

“You were probably awkward before this.” She grinned, putting her hand gently on the side of his arm. “You have that look about you.”

“I’ll have you know, I was a smooth motherf…” She interrupted his curse with another kiss, simultaneously unfastening his jeans.

He slipped the button of her jeans loose, remembering the playful demonstration on how to button them earlier, breathing her in, kissing her as she swept his shirt up over his chest. He moaned and pulled away, watching her as she tightened her thighs over his, kneeling up over him to tug the shirt free.

“Tell me that was a pleasure moan and not pain.” She grinned, holding his face between her hands and peppering his face with kisses.

“It was agony.” He laughed, ruining her attempt at a passionate kiss. “You were squashing the goods.”

“That will never do.” She smirked, putting her hand boldly into the front of his pants. “I can think of better things to do with the goods.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky groaned from the abuse he was allowing his body to endure, and a smile escaped when he heard a similar sound from the massage table nearby. This massage thing was the biggest mistake he’d ever made; in not doing it before now, that is. “Tasha?” he said through the opening of the table, where his face was semi-smashed.

“Yeah James,” why didn’t her voice sound drunk and smooshed?

“This was a brilliant idea.”

“I know.”

He grinned (the best he could with his face smashed into the massage table) “You’re not full of yourself at all.”

“I’m just smart enough to admit when I’m right.”

The pains that were often present where his arm didn’t exist anymore were being massaged away. In an attempt to keep him from freaking out about the arm and the massage therapist, Nat had told him that she let them know ahead of time they’d be working with an amputee, and they had at least a couple of therapists who knew how to work that. A few minutes of exploration of his arm had led to the discovery of a place on his stump that they could scratch the itch. It was a revelation. If he could manage some of the pain, maybe he could cut back on the pain meds, and that might help with his depression. Bucky’s mind wasn’t relaxing, it was thinking, trying to problem-solve.

The pinching feeling in his neck muscles was a message to slow down. He relaxed as the skilled hands worked his tensions away.

“I’m glad you were right Tasha.” Bucky finally said when he was lying on his back letting the massage therapist work him over.

“I am too James.” He turned toward her table to see her lying on her front, looking at him with a smile. Her therapist had her turn over, and he pretended not to watch, even though she probably knew.

She’d put him through his paces the night before in the bedroom, and again that morning in the gym, showing him some exercises and lifts for his left arm. He’d definitely earned this massage.

Bucky sat up as the massage therapists left the room, she’d encouraged him to remove all of his clothes, and at first he’d been very reluctant, “it’ll make the massage easier, and they’ve seen everything.” She’d smiled, shimmying out of her underwear. He had dropped his after that, and hoped for the best with a sigh and a wish for his body ‘please don’t embarrass me’.

Nat crossed the space between them, wearing her underwear, “was it better or worse than you’d feared?” she asked, caressing his left arm before letting her hand drop to his waist.

“It was better, you have a deal, I’ll find a massage therapist in California.”

“One who is comfortable with this?”

“Yes, I’ll ask before booking.” He smiled, “If they’re experienced would be better, that was amazing, and I found a point for relief, as long as it works again.”

She kissed him and handed him his boxer briefs, which he hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “That was like a little magic trick. I’m going to have to remember to suggest it to one of my clients, it’s interesting how your brain and body remap those nerves. I think I’ll do a little reading on the topic.”

“Share what you find out, I’m afraid my own research hours are going to be spent on school.” Bucky slid off the table and pulled his underwear up, and into place. He blushed as she watched him with a smirk. “Stop doing that.”

“What? Watching you? Don’t you watch me?”

“You’re very smooth, I’m just wrangling bits and things into stretch cotton.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, you’ve mastered a thing, and it doesn’t look like wrangling the way you describe it.” She slipped her finger in the waistband, straightening it on his hip. “Would you believe I only know of two stops today before we reach Flagstaff?”

“That’s two on the itinerary, doesn’t mean we won’t find a dozen.” He smiled, putting his hand on her cheek, tickling her lip with his thumb. “How long is the drive, we’ll get there before we miss at least one of the demonstrations at the observatory, right?”

“If we leave soon, we could see two of them, sure, maybe all three. One of the other stops is a meteor crater, if you want to see a historic hole in the ground.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing a historic hole in the ground.” Bucky kissed her briefly, “let’s get dressed.”

The seven-hour drive was beautiful, the choice to stop in Albuquerque for brunch, checking out the historic KiMo theater’s southwest facade. Bucky had wondered why a theater that wasn’t showing anything while they were going to be there would be on the list, but the orange, turquoise, and brown tiles, and carved dark wood on the ticket booth and entry were gorgeous, and continued the warm, earthy theme from last night through the morning.

“It’s beautiful.” He managed, “Art Deco with southwest flair. It kinda reminds me of Brooklyn, with a different flavor.”

“I think you’ve fallen in love with the southwest, maybe you should just go to NAU.” She smiled, holding onto his arm and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll fall in love with California too. I’m getting pretty good at that lately.” He looked at her, amazed that a few days ago he would have been so uncomfortable even thinking of somebody that close, and that tender with what he tried so often to refuse to call his “stump”. He lifted the phone, “Selfie?”

“Yeah, since we’re not lucky enough to have people nearby at this hour. Wanna try the prop it and time it mode?”

“In a minute, we’ll try propping it on the car, the façade of this place is worthy of a try.” He waited for her to be ready for the selfie before taking a few shots. “I’m surprised you don’t have a selfie stick.”

“I know, it was an oversight. I want to get one of you, for me.” She said, reaching for the phone, “by the ticket booth.”

He leaned on the counter at the front of the booth, and smiling, he felt, like a lovesick puppy. “It’s your turn.” He ordered, after she let him know she was finished. He knew that the image of her flirting at the ticket booth was going to be his favorite picture, aside from one of them dancing at the diner that first day.

The meteor crater might have been dismissed as a giant expanse of dirt, but the idea of an ancient chunk of space careening into an ancient earth was fascinating, more because fewer craters are visible due to erosion. Natasha smiled as he discussed the information they were given on plaques and things he knew about the possible speed of impact. She as amazed but not surprised at the things he just knew, the figures he could pull out as he made his case. She was impressed when he said something and it was confirmed on a plaque they’d yet to read.

“I’m glad you're going back to school.” She said after they had been back on the road a while, “You have a sharp mind, and a lot of knowledge that shouldn’t be wasted.”

“I’m glad I had the little tiny idea that got pressured and irritated by Steve and Sam until it became a pearl of anxiety and wisdom.” He smiled across the car, “I’m sorry if Steve caused you any extra anxiety over me.”

“I take things like that pretty well, he wasn’t ever dramatic or anything. Besides, he’s my friend. I expect to be a sounding board for my friends. I’m sure if I was hurting and it bothered him that he couldn’t help, he’d vent to you.”

“Maybe a few years ago. I have really tried our friendship. You know? I just don’t know if he’d want to burden me with problems.”

“You know Steve’s not like that, he’s a good guy. He never burdened me either. I had to drag it out of him when he did say something, and it was always about him not knowing how to be a better resource.”

“I don’t have a lot in this world, but I do have Stevie, and I have to make sure I can be there for him more. This one-sided thing hasn’t done anybody any favors.”

“Instead of guilt, what’s the plan?”

“Get to school, keep working to get healthy mentally. I guess that means therapy, massage therapy, and being more social. I guess.”

“Suggestions, if I may?”

“You may.”

“By all means find a massage therapist that specializes, but ask about becoming a client for expanded massage techniques studies at a massage therapy school for those in-between moments, because it gets so expensive. You will also be helping teach others to be more knowledgeable. Utilize your school gym, and if you want one-on-one, look for student deals. I can send you some things for daily routines too.”

“Tasha, you’re the best.” Bucky smiled as Natasha turned into the driveway of their motel. “I’m not just blowin’ smoke either. You listen, and I love that. You offer things I can handle, and god I love that too.”

“You know? I’m glad it makes you smile. You have a pretty smile James.”

He blushed as she ran her hand up his thigh, “You are incorrigible.”

“I never set out to be corrigible.” She wrinkled her nose as he looked at her as if she’d broken the English language.

“It’s funny; I never realized there was a positive version of the word. I should know this, but it escaped me.”

“You get a pass, you’re going to be an engineer,” her grin was mischievous, “if you were going into literature, I’d be tough on you about it.”

Bucky watched as she pushed away from the convertible and sauntered to the motel lobby. While he waited for her to check in, he sent Steve a handful of text messages. After the first two, with no reply, he figured Steve would be out with Sam or something and would text later. Steve responded after three photos and their captions.

_Steve: “Looks amazing! How are you two getting along?”_

_Bucky: “Haven’t you and Nat been texting?”_

_Steve: “Nothing from either of you since you were on the way to Santa Fe”_

_Bucky: “Sorry. That’s where things got interesting.” Bucky smiled, thinking about just how interesting._

_Steve: “Oh?”_

_Bucky: “The place is pretty inspirational. Let’s skype when I get to Cali.”_ Bucky smiled up at Nat as she got back into the car to pull around to their room.

_Steve: “Yeah, I’d like that. I need to see where you wind up.”_

_Bucky: “I’ll let you get back to whatever. Have you been celebrating your freedom?”_

_Steve: “I’ve been dragged out by Sam. Sorry I did that to you, it sucks when you’re not in the mood.”_

_Bucky: “Yeah it does. Sorry you’re dealing with it.”_

Bucky stuck his phone in his pocket when she stopped, and hopped out of the car, taking his bag as she handed it to him. “Steve’s getting out, against his will.”

“That’s good. Was it Sam? Sam won’t torment him too badly.”

“True. It probably feels like it though.” Bucky said from experience, as well as knowing when Steve said something “sucks” he was probably not exaggerating. He followed her into the typical styled Motel room, which was a little disappointing after the room in Santa Fe, but it was a better room than the one in Texas.

“It’ll get better. I’m going to see if Sam or I can move in and help him until January. Someone sharing the rent can take a little pressure off so he can pay his credit card bill and stuff.”

The guilt over the subject poked at him. He wasn’t supposed to feel guilty, at least that’s what everyone said, but Steve had been paying the rent and everything else over the past year and a half, since Bucky kept getting the runaround on his application for disability. “I’ll send money when I get work.”

“James, that’s why I’m doing this, so that you can take care of yourself. Whatever debt you think you owe Steve, that’s between you two and you can work it out when he gets to California. You know? I think I’d prefer Steve as a roommate to the one I have now anyway. It’s going to be fine.”

“I know. I’m just having a moment.” Bucky sighed, setting his bag on the bed. “Guilt and that shitty companion Depression are trying to get in on our day.”

“Ok. Guilt – this is our day.” She wrapped her arms around him, “You’re not providing anything constructive. Leave James alone.”

“Guilt, listen to Tasha, she’s a badass.” Bucky smiled, “Thanks.”

“Anything to keep you from missing out on your space night.”

“If you don’t want to go, we can do something else.”

“I want to. Let’s get cleaned up and go. I swore that was your _one_ stipulation.”

“It was, but that was before I knew I was going to enjoy myself.” He dragged his hand up her spine and cupped the back of her head, moving in to kiss her, his mouth hovered just away from hers, “I have, you know.”

“James.” She breathed, soft and inviting.

He smiled before tasting her berry-flavored lips with the tip of his tongue, teasing until she drew him to her. He was going to have to start getting more aggressive with his kisses if he wanted to keep up with her, and he really did. “Tasha.” He responded with a lighthearted lilt. He pulled back, reluctant to break contact, “I’ll be right back.”

She smiled, dipping her head as she watched him head for the bathroom. “So, tomorrow we hit California, and we can get all the way to the end of the line by the end of the day, but everything in Santa Monica will be closed, and you’ll get to Stanford late, or we can split the drive and stop in Barstow for the night.”

His heart had tripped when he heard her say they’d be done tomorrow, and the smile that took over when she offered another day was almost painful in the best way. He called back through the door, “Two days. Let’s take our time Tasha.”

She was confirming their motel stay for the next night when he came out and sprawled across the bed. He listened, smiling when she looked at him. She crawled across the bed and laid down perpendicular to him with her head on his chest as she gave them her number and asked that they text the confirmation number.

He played with her hair while she checked her phone. “We have a few minutes, yes?”

“We have a few. It’s going to be cool tonight,” she said, turning to look at him, “do you have something warmer than the hoodie?”

“I have a warm hoodie.” He chuckled.

She liked hearing and feeling his amusement, and the hair thing was nice too.

“Do you? Have something warmer?” he asked. “I’d better take an extra pain pill with me just in case the cold gets into my imaginary arm.”

“I have a warm coat. I didn’t want to be unprepared if there was some kind of out of the ordinary weather. I’m used to being prepared for anything.”

“Were you prepared for me?”

She turned onto her side, leaning on her elbow, to look at him, “I knew you had a hard time outside your very small comfort zone, and I had a list of things you used to like, and your interest in astronomy, but no, I wasn’t prepared for you.”

“You handled the comfort zone like a pro. How did you get me out of that shell?”

“How do we keep you out is the only question I’m interested in.” She traced the scar on his arm with her knuckle, “How will we do that James?”

“My therapist is keen on Check-ins. You said you’d send workout stuff, I’ll check in with you weekly or?”

“Weekly would be a good start, that way, if you miss a day, just move on to the next and you don’t have to feel guilty.” It was a start. She was about to ask for more before he came up with the check in idea. She could work with that. “I’m going to go wash my face and change into some warm layers. I’ll be out in a few.”

“I’ll dig out my layers too, if I can get up.”

“Too many hours in the car after that massage?” she smiled, patting his stomach, “Nice abs.”

“They could be better.”

“They _will_ be.” She corrected as she slipped into the bathroom. He chuckled, crunching said abs as he sat up. He tugged a couple of shirts he could layer comfortably out of his bag and slipped the short-sleeved one over his head. He checked the seam on the altered long-sleeve before inserting his arm, adjusting it so it was straight. He needed to get more of his shirts altered, he thought. He felt that the enclosed sleeve kept him warmer, and helped with the phantom pains. Even if it was in his head, at least this brain intrusion was a positive one.

Natasha came out of the bathroom wearing a warm looking long-sleeved shirt with a hoodie over it, the sleeves layered at her wrists in colorful bands. “You look warm already.” She said as she rubbed her hands over the soft cotton of his shirt on his shoulders. She tilted her head to look him over, “I like this color on you. It’s a good blue for you.”

“You’re always beating me to the compliments; I’m so out of practice.”

“I don’t mind, and I don’t compliment you for return favors.”

“I know. I noticed your colorful layers, in my head.” He sat down heavily and Nat stood between his knees wrapping her arms around him.

She played with his hair, “Do you need some food? Is this a bad day moment or a sugar crash?”

“Food could be a good thing.” He admitted. “We could grab drive-through on the way.”

“Sure.” She agreed, smoothing his hair before taking the hair-band from his wrist. “Burgers? It’s been a couple of days since I’ve had a good burger and fries.”

He sat still, enjoying the tenderness as she tied his hair back, even in the awkward positon of doing it from in front of him, not being able to see, he was willing to bet she got it smoother than he could one-handed.

“Burgers.” Bucky agreed. “I didn’t order a burger that first day because they’re unwieldy in one hand, and I didn’t want you to see that.”

“Do you get them cut in half? That helps a little.” She looked at him and he thought she was expecting him to make an argument.

“Yeah, I learned that when we ate somewhere that did it automatically. I’ve learned not to forget to ask. Still, I didn’t know you, chicken strips or nuggets are a safe bet for a decent first impression.”

“Let’s go get a burger. You ok with eating in the car? Or would you prefer to stop. We’ll only miss a few minutes of a presentation if we stop.”

“We can stop. I don’t want to juggle a drink and bag of food in your car.”

“Let’s get going then.” She stepped back and tugged her coat from the bottom of her bag. Bucky found his jacket at the bottom of his, and pulled the two-tone hoodie out, dislodging underwear and t-shirts in the process.

“Yeah, that always works.” He groaned. “Two shirts, two jackets, I’m ready for any weather.”

They enjoyed the three different tours and presentations that were scheduled, Natasha thought Bucky looked like a kid in a candy store, watching, listening, and observing through telescopes. The program that outlined the constellations with a green laser was Nat’s favorite, especially the mythology behind the constellations. Correction, his arm around her as they looked up into the sky was her favorite and it gave her an idea after hearing somebody talking about the best local places for stargazing.

When they left, Bucky _felt_ like a kid, including his cold nose and half-tired refusal to admit he was tired. He didn’t even question when Natasha went a different direction than their motel, just listened to the music she had playing. He was curious enough to ask finally, “Did you have any fun Tasha?”

“I did. I enjoyed it a lot. I’ve always known about mythology and the stars, but it’s nice to learn something new. You’re not going to ask where we’re going?”

“I figured you had it under control. We’re not finishing the drive tonight are we? We left all our clothes behind.”

“Ok. You’re officially no fun.” She said, stopping the car in what was essentially the middle of nowhere. “At least you trust me enough not to ask why I’ve driven you out to the boonies in the dark of night. Maybe this is where Steve gets his murder scenario.”

“That’s hilarious. What _are we doing_?”

She got out of the car, and put her heavy coat on, zipping it to her chin. “Put your coat on and grab the blanket.”

He did as told, following her a few feet from the car. She took two ends of the blanket and spread it across the ground, waiting until he had the two corners on his end evened out before starting the music on her phone and tossing it onto the blanket. She snapped his coat closed and tugged on the loose sleeve, “Do you trust me James?”

“I trust you Tasha.”

“Ok, come lay with me.” She knelt on the blanket, beckoning him to join her. He put his hand on her shoulder to steady his descent and spread out across the blanket. She put the phone close to both of their heads and sprawled out perpendicular to him, similar to the way they’d relaxed earlier at the motel, using him as a pillow. “Stars James. Tell me about the stars.”

Soft music played as he talked about constellations in more depth, tickling her neck and messing with her hair, as she pulled his arm by the sleeve and held it over her chest. He could almost imagine the rest of his arm in the sleeve, felt it move to rub her side, even if it was in his head. He went quiet when the song _Gold Forever_ started, listening to the lyrics as they came from her lips. He’d heard the song before, enough to have the lyrics seep into his subconscious, and found himself not just singing along with her, but feeling the meaning of the words.

He wasn’t sure if it was a happy or melancholy thing as they sang “ _We're standing in a light that won't fade_ ; _Tomorrow's coming but this won't change_ ; _'Cause some days stay gold forever_ ; _The memory of being here with you_ ; _Is one I'm gonna take my life through_ ; _'Cause some days stay gold forever_ ”. It was true, and since it was his life, maybe it was a bit of both. He slowly started talking about constellations as the emotions the song stirred up settled.

She liked listening to him, the science end of things was interesting, even if it got a _little_ tedious for a moment here or there, he kept her engaged with a mythological reference or by dialing it back a little. He never talked down to her, and sometimes stopped to see if she would ask for clarification. She’d been happy that the dark park she’d heard about was so perfect for viewing thousands of stars, and she was happy that meant it was dark enough, that if he’d been looking at her when they finished singing, he still wouldn’t have seen the tears that dripped across her cheeks and into her hair, to be absorbed by the hood of her coat.

Wasn’t it just the way? Timing was all wrong, for him especially. Maybe those weekly check-ins they’d agreed to would be good for both of them. She could hope. She gripped his sleeve, trying to hold him tight.

“Tasha?” he stopped the most recent star theory, “You ok?”

“Yeah, I was listening. Are you considering becoming a lecturer? You should add that to your list of possibilities.”

“You’re sure you’re ok?”

Crap, he sounded like he was on to her.

“Because I’m not all that ok. That song felt a little too close to home. It felt a little final, you know?”

“It’s just a song.” No, that didn’t sound convincing at all. “Nothing’s final, we just met James. How is that final?”

“I guess you’re right.” But wait until I ask if you’d want to try a long term relationship with a damaged man. Then it’s final. Of course he couldn’t say any of that, especially not the relationship part. “Are you cold Tash?”

“Getting there,” she turned to face him, tucking his sleeve gently at his side, “the blanket isn’t thick enough. You ready to go back?”

“No, but I’m starting to feel the cold too, so maybe we should.”

She stood up and offered him a hand up, neither admitting that the cold seemed to coincide with the finality Bucky had mentioned.

He tugged her close and buried his face in her hair, “You’re warm, and smell like summer.”

She gripped him, hugging him as close as she could without appearing desperate, she hoped. “You’re the furnace. I don’t want to move.”

She liked the way his laughter felt, liked that he could laugh after closing himself off from the idea of joy, and hoped he would remember how to laugh after she left him at Stanford.

“Let’s go.” He stooped to pick up the blanket, draping it, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close as he steered her toward the car.

She let him, and handed him the keys when they got to the car, “You didn’t drive today, how are you with night driving?”

“Last time I tried, I woke up from a coma two weeks later.” He shivered, holding his hand out for the keys anyway. “What the hell, you trust me Tasha?”

She tightened her hand over his. “Of course I do James.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky woke up to pain in his arm, “Tasha, you’re crushing my arm.” He groaned.

“James?” she lifted her head from his warm chest. “You’re dreaming.”

“I’m not fucking dreaming,” he cried from the very real pain.

She moved, careful not to jostle his arm, “is this normal?”

“Fuck.” He swiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand. He blew out a couple of harsh breaths, “can you get one of the pills from my coat pocket?”

She dragged her hand down his chest and over his waist and hip as she carefully moved from her spot next to him, “let me guess, Right pocket?” she teased. She grabbed one of the bottles of water she’d brought in the day before from the table, and fished the pills from his pocket. Kneeling next to him as he rolled to a pained sitting position, she rubbed his shoulder, holding the pills out for him then handing him the opened water bottle.

“Thanks.” It came out like a grumble instead of a word. She brushed the hair from his forehead.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be a dead weight.” She kept her voice low and tender. “Must have forgotten myself in the heat of slumber.”

He took her hand in his after washing the pill down. “Thought I was getting off lucky, no pain in days. I seriously thought you were grinding it into asphalt.”

“You were sleep drunk and in pain.” She didn’t ask. “Don’t worry. I’ll probably do something to earn the accusation, just give me time.”

“You’re beautiful, Tasha. You’re also too chipper.”

“If you’re complaining, I can’t help either one of those things.” She started absently rubbing the spot they’d pinpointed during their massage. “Do you need food for that pill?”

“Not necessarily.” He leaned against her, closing his eyes to the weirder phantom feeling of unclenching his nonexistent fist as she continued to stimulate the nerves. “I can take over, if you want.”

“I’m good.” She said, placing a tender kiss on his temple.

“We still have to go find your giant.”

“In a few. It’s a shorter drive today, we can take it slow.”

Bucky sprawled across the bed relieved that he didn’t have to move or get dressed yet. She curled up under his right arm, with her head on his chest, “It’s good to be lazy sometimes too.” She said quietly.

“I’ve been lazy for two years.” He kissed the top of her head, “Do me a favor?”

She looked up at him, “anything.”

“I didn’t think about it, could you stuff a pillow under my arm, if I do it I’m gonna close line you.”

She pulled the pillow she wasn’t using from the bed and stuck it under his arm, adjusting it as he instructed, until they found the most comfortable position, then curled back into her spot, running her fingers along his chest and belly. “How long does it usually take for the pain to fade?”

“It’s getting better already, you helped. It might crop up again or not. If you want to go start getting ready, I’ll go in after you.”

“I’ll go in a minute. I wasn’t quite ready for waking up.”

“Sorry. I think I was, but it was a rude awakening after the fact. Here I go ruining the trip again.”

“Don’t start that.” She smiled up at him, “what if I woke up to cramps? I know it’s not the same, but they’re pretty debilitating.”

“I’d drive and you could curl up in the back. I hope I don’t have to do that, but I’ve done it before, so…” he smiled at her, “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“I can’t get away with saying Steve is counting on me can I?”

“I hope not. You didn’t sleep with me because of Steve, so no.”

“I really have to get up, don’t I?” She rolled onto her side, tracing the contour of his cheek and jaw, “I guess we stayed up too late the last couple of nights.”

“I’m not complaining. Thanks for last night. Stargazing in the southwest, seeing the summer and autumn constellations, I – it was wonderful sharing that with you.”

“After wasn’t too bad either.” She smiled, kissing the dimple in his chin, “Thank you for being a gentleman, and for being a scoundrel.”

“I didn’t realize.” He laughed, “Ok, maybe I’ve been exploring the boundaries of my temporary freedom.”

“Keep exploring.” She grinned, “I’m going to do that shower thing now. Still comfortable?”

“Yeah, I have a feeling I’m going to be a lot less so as soon as your warm body leaves mine behind.”

“That’s what blankets are for James, the times when we just can’t rub up on each other anymore.” She teased, covering him with the blanket.

While her shower ran, his pain receded further, giving way to a pins and needles feeling that he was familiar with. He pressed his thumb against the nerve spot and focused on moving the hand that was only there to give him pain, not to pick things up, or touch Natasha’s silky curls, or pull her hips against his. No that hand was just a prick of a ghost, teasing him with varying sensations. The active tingle died down as he dozed, his hand collapsing from rubbing his arm, to resting across his chest.

“What if we stop and get an extra blanket and pillow to make sure you have backup on the road?” Natasha asked as she came out of the bathroom, “James?”

She looked at him sleeping peacefully where she’d left him, and approached carefully, kissing his forehead and cheek. “James.”

“Tasha? I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

“It appears so.” She smiled tenderly. “Would it help to have an extra blanket and pillow for the car? We could stop before we hit the road.”

“Can’t hurt.” He cupped her cheek before spreading his fingers into her still-damp hair. “You still smell like summer.”

“Come on, you charmer.” She pulled the covers away from his naked body, “Shower if you need it. Do I get to pick your clothes today?”

“Yeah, save me some time. See which gray you think goes best with my eyes.” He grinned. She could see a faint ghost of pain in his features, but he was moving around freely, so she felt he was probably adjusting, or the drugs and massage were working.

Bucky turned the water to warm and stepped into the shower, he was used to major depressive days with and without pain, but he wasn’t used to a pain day with relatively few depression symptoms. He would have to ask Nat about his depression numbers for his therapist. He was pretty sure he remembered them, but it would be good to be as accurate as he could. He washed himself lazily, enjoying the body wash she brought into the bathroom, and how it reminded him of her. The shower pounded the rest of the pins and needles from his brain and the ghost hand finally went dormant. He skipped washing his hair, but the wet ends licked his shoulders.

Natasha pulled out a soft gray shirt, considering grabbing a colored one instead, but leaving it at a deep charcoal V-neck. He was probably going to wear his red hoodie anyway, and she was getting used to seeing him snuggled up in it. She found his discarded jeans, and if she remembered right this would be day two in them, and they’d treated their clothes very respectfully, in light of the impassioned moments yesterday morning and evening. She went for socks, then remembered the ones they’d gotten in Santa Fe, she dug the sack out of her bag and packed his socks, thinking that he’d think of her, and the place of sunshine, where he’d said he’d felt his best, when he unpacked. She rummaged for a pair of neon green and black checked socks and a clean pair of blue boxer briefs. She laughed at the hidden colors.

He came out of the bathroom to her laughter, “What’s so funny?” he asked from behind her, his towel-covered hip bumping into her rear.

“You have all this black and gray, but your underwear and socks, all hidden, are all so vibrant. What would it take to turn you inside out James?”

“Years of therapy, a road trip halfway across the continent, and… I don’t know, it is weird, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not weird. You do have a nice red hoodie, I like that color on you James.”

“Don’t say that, maybe next time all I’ll have is that color red. I’ll tell everybody “Tasha likes it on me” when they complain.”

“Ok.” She turned in his hold, “I’m ok with that.”

“Should I wear a color instead of gray? I was teasing you since you had complained about my fifty shades of t-shirts.”

“You're good. This will be comfortable, and everything else is all packed. Come on, we have things to see and food to eat.”

Bucky gave in to Nat’s nurturing instinct and let her stop at a Walmart for a pillow and a blanket. He also opted to drive because he could shove the pillow against the door and have a spot to prop his arm that had started throbbing again not long after they’d packed up the car. He took pictures with “Louie the Lumberjack” for Natasha, feeling less intimidated by the mascot of the university. Another week and the campus would be teeming with students, but this morning it was relatively quiet. They picked someplace small and quiet for breakfast without consulting yelp, and had the full breakfast deal, including pancakes, before hitting the road toward California.

“Tasha,” Bucky said after a quiet forty-minute drive from the diner. “that billboard, is that the zipline place you were telling me about?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have to.”

“If I didn’t do things because my arm hurt or my soul, or whatever, I’d still be behind the curtains in our Chicago apartment. I’ll take my usual pain day dose and deal with it, if that’s what happens. I want to do this.”

She shrugged, and put her hand on his shoulder, “if you’re sure. It could be fun.”

“I hope so.” Bucky smiled, turning off the highway. “we’ll make it fun, won’t we Tasha?”

The place looked touristy, and Bucky wasn’t sure what kind of view they’d have, but he wanted to do it just for fun.

They were strapped into and open tram-like “car” with “Route 66” emblazoned bucket seats after Bucky read the disclaimers, apparently as long as you have your legs to your knees you could ride, and nothing was said about arms. They glided to the soundtrack of sound effects and music at a height of over 100 feet in the air, for a distance of 700 feet, going 30mph. They were then taken backward the same distance at the same speed. The reverse trip was a rush, and a little disorienting for Bucky before they surged to a stop where the operator took a picture at Nat’s request.

Before heading out, they took a few pictures of the things that made the place a theme destination, a classic car and road signs. He drove again, and Natasha shifted in her seat so that her head was on his shoulder. He nudged her gently and she looked up at him.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I’m sorry we didn’t do that extreme tree climbing and zipline thing. Maybe next spring?”

“That’s not it. Earlier, each thing was a new thing to find. Now everything is starting to blend together.” She lied, a little. It was starting to blend, but only because each new thing coming was one new thing closer to the final destination. How could she tell him that? She’d even googled how to date a man with depression, and there was no handbook. Things screamed “it probably won’t work” and he wasn’t really asking to be in a relationship either. She didn’t mind making him feel good, it was a bonus to the trip that he’d actually enjoyed himself.

“Maybe you’re just road weary. Do you want to cheat a little and hit the main highway?”

“No, I don’t want to cheat.” She smiled against the soft fleece of his hoodie.

“Good, I suggested it, but it makes our trip shorter.” He hated suggesting it, but he wanted her happy, and she didn’t seem overly delighted just now. “and I don’t want that.”

Bucky was pleased to see Nat’s mood lifted when they reached the old Oatman mining town. She was smiling and laughing at the burros that roam freely in the streets. When Bucky bought a bunch of carrots for her to feed them, she giggled and laughed at the greedy little creatures. Bucky wanted this memory to last, so he took video after video on his phone. She did the same, encouraging him to feed the little white one that kept nipping at his shirtsleeve.

“Tasha, you’re radiant.” He laughed. “Hi Steve and Sam. I know she’ll send this to you.”

“I might not, now I’ll have to edit that out.” She smirked. “You don’t tell me I’m radiant and then talk about those two goofballs.”

“You’re still recording aren’t you?” he laughed even harder. “Hand me another carrot or two.”

She watched the little burros nuzzling him for more and passed him two carrots. He spread them with his fingers so that the two beggars could eat. “I saw an ice cream sign, how do you feel about grabbing some before we go?”

“I love that idea.” Bucky giggled as the littlest burro tickled his belly while nibbling at his shirt. “No ice cream for you, and Tasha’s out of carrots.” He told the friendliest “wild” burro. Natasha laughed, pleased that she was still recording him.

They had ice cream and walked the sidewalk, hearing shouts, Natasha turned. She saw costumed “cowboys” and realized they were about to see a shootout, she grabbed Bucky’s waistband and turned him toward the action. “Look James!” she beamed. “Come on.”

They watched the show unfold, licking ice cream, but not fast enough to stop it from dripping in the heat. Nat kept the napkins going as she and Bucky kept getting dribbles of sweet cream that they couldn’t catch, running over their knuckles.

Back at the car, they designated one water bottle the anti-sticky wash water, cleaning up their hands and wiping their faces with more napkins. “Tasha, this really did make up for a poor wake up this morning.” He hugged her, running his thumb over her ribs and waist. “You picked some of the best spots.”

“Thank you James. I was afraid you were going to be so upset by the end of this. I had three routes planned at first. This route, and the main freeway from St. Louis or Tulsa.”

“You were going to give up on me that early?”

“I wasn’t, but I was afraid you were going to get sick of the kitsch fast. I needed a few outs in case you were really upset by my crazy itinerary.”

Bucky took a bottle of water from her and pulled a pill out of his pocket, she was used to his antidepressant schedule now, and this wasn’t it, so she figured it was the pain still. “Did you want me to drive? Is propping it working? Or did you want to lie down for a bit? I don’t think our next stop is for a couple of hours.”

“If you don’t mind, I think I will hold down the back seat for a while. You can talk to me, I don’t think I’ll fall asleep, I just need more support on it for a bit.”

“Sounds good, and no pressure about falling asleep.” She kissed him quickly, “If it happens, it happens.”

She stood by in case he needed pillow adjusting or anything, and when he had his arm comfortably supported, she tossed the travel pillow at him. He deflected it skillfully and whipped it behind his head. “Driver! Why are we not moving?”

“Because there’s a lump in the back that’s slowing down the process. We’ll be on the road shortly, sir.”

As soon as she was seated, he kneed the back of her seat and grinned at her when she looked over her shoulder. “I’m going to be accused of something, I might as well be guilty.” He yawned. “Carry on.”

She flipped him off before putting the car in gear. She told him about some of the places in California that she wanted to see, “maybe when I bring Steve.”

He offered to look up a detailed itinerary for her visit, “If you want to spend that much time with me after flying with Steve.”

She woke him about ten minutes before the stop at Roy’s Café, a partially restored inn and café that wasn’t in operation, but she was going to have plenty of pictures of the outside. “Wake up James, I think you might want to see this.”

He sat up, groggy, “I didn’t fall asleep.”

“Yes you did, clear your head pretty boy. We’re going to see something a little unusual, or oddly ordinary, and I want you to see it.”

“If it’s oddly ordinary, why can’t I sleep through it,” he put his hand on her neck and rubbed gently.

“You’ll see.”

When they pulled up to the pump from another decade, probably two, or three decades before either of them were born, he looked around. It was as she said, oddly ordinary. It was like being at a midcentury café and filling station but without the polished attendants and busy noises. She hopped out of the car and posed at the pump without hesitation and Bucky snapped a couple of pictures from the back seat.

They wandered around and grabbed a root beer from the nonfunctioning café, “Anything to keep them afloat.” Nat said with a shrug. “I hope you’re not disappointed, I thought a little interactive museum of sorts would be interesting.”

“I loved the way it appeared on the highway and the faded colors would really appeal to Steve, I’m not surprised you are enjoying it, you did insist on photo ops with three chipped fiberglass giants. The root beer is refreshing in the heat. We’ll stay in the cool as long as you want to take pictures.”

“That’s why I like you.” she teased. “Are you getting hungry? I know an actual place we can eat, it’s about an hour from here, our motel is about 30 minutes beyond that.”

“I think I can survive that long.” Bucky finished his bottled root beer. “Ready when you are.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky couldn’t believe it was the last day. He’d been avoiding its coming with every fiber of his being. When they got to their motel the night before after dinner at the Bagdad Café, he’d made love to Natasha, crashing through the door kissing one another, undressing each other, which had dissolved to laughter as he was painfully uncoordinated still, but as Tasha had said, “you have spirit, and that counts.”

After the humor slowed them down, they were lazy lovers, exploring one another, memorizing every freckle and scar. He’d awoken in the early hours the way he’d wished he had the day before, pillowed on her chest, breathing in tandem with her as his hand draped over her breast. Not having crushing pain made morning much more conducive to a morning make out and lovemaking session.

Now he was in the passenger seat, sitting sort of crooked with one foot on the dash, his shoulder just touching hers. She said they were veering off course for a ghost town, but that it was more of a recreational area. When they arrived at Calico, it was just opening for the day. Nat promised a quick visit, just a peek, and breakfast, “after all, we’re here, but we want to spend some time on the beach too.”

He just tugged her close by the pocket of her jeans and kissed the side of her head instead of reassuring her again that it was fine. As they snapped pictures on their way to the restaurant, he stopped and put his hand in his pocket. In his head, both hands went in deep, “Tasha, I can’t tell if today’s number is high or if I’m just nervous about the trip being over.”

“I’m no shrink – excuse me – therapist, but I think it’s probably the latter. If it’s any consolation, the trek from Santa Monica to Stanford adds another day.”

It was, actually. He straightened his posture and smiled, “I didn’t figure that in, I don’t know why. You’d think I could do that math.”

“The destination we’ve been looking at was Santa Monica. We have another six hours plus, depending on traffic. Hope you can handle it.”

He followed her through the restaurant doors, the wood floors creaking underfoot. “You think this place has pancakes?”

“James,” she shook her head, “Oh James. You and your pancakes.”

“I warned you.” he smiled. “Well, do ya?”

“I know they do, I checked the menu while you were washing your hair. Or whatever it was that took you so long in there.”

“It was my hair. Next time I’ll let you do it. It takes longer with one hand and all this hair.” He tugged on his pony tail. “You were looking out for me?”

“I was. If they didn’t have pancakes we wouldn’t have come.”

He was pretty sure she just stole his heart.

The restaurant was small but bright, with red walls and traditional wood chairs at each table. The food was perfect to start the day, fluffy pancakes, hot and buttery with real maple syrup; bacon and eggs on the side. “Tasha, you know how to treat a guy.”

With breakfast out of the way, they were back on the road, singing and laughing. He had the itinerary memorized by now, which was admittedly easier since there were fewer places to have to recall, so when she pulled off at the Bottle Tree Ranch, and art installation of glass bottle trees, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

He shouldn’t have been, but not only was Bucky surprised he was disappointed. The disappointment wasn’t in the glistening glass and metal, but because this was the last bullet point stop on her list before the end of the line of Route 66. That uncertain feeling was in his gut again, yeah, they had tomorrow, but as she’d said, the destination they’d focused so hard on was almost upon them.

She liked him, he knew that, but she hadn’t shown any real interest in most of his suggestions for after, and as much as it hurt, he respected her. He wouldn’t want to take on a mentally ill person like himself either. He’d be such a burden for her that it would kill him.

 Natasha was disillusioned with the Bottle Trees, they seemed washed out and sad. She’d wanted sparkling color and had envisioned a breeze kicking up and whistling through the mouths of the bottles. Maybe it wasn’t the bottles and metal structures after all, maybe it was him. He was going to school, would be done with her tomorrow. She wasn’t worth it anyway, her mother had said as much long ago. She’d played a pretty role and she would be alone to drive back across the country in half the time with half a heart.

Their drive to Santa Monica was quiet. Each was thinking of their own disappointments instead of looking forward to the goal, and spending time together on the beach. As the signs counted down the miles, Bucky looked over at Natasha and saw a tear on her cheek. “Tasha?”

“What James?” it wasn’t “yes James?” sweetly delivered, it was bitter.

“Do you want me to drive?” it wasn’t “are you ok?” because he thought she’d slug him if he asked that one.

“I’m fine.”

It was a lie, he knew it, wasn’t _exactly_ going to call her out on it, “I’m not.”

She looked over at him and her eyes were glistening.

“I’m not fine. I’m sorry I ruined the Bottle Tree Ranch thing with my attitude.”

She laughed, but it was a harsh sound, that tore at his heart. “Most men ask you to tell them what they did wrong and they’ll apologize. But not you, James. You just apologize for something you think you did wrong.”

“If I didn’t make you cry, then what?”

“This trip wasn’t supposed to go this way. I’m complaining and the only mishap we had was a flat tire, and you had a bad day, and that’s one fifth the number of bad days I was expecting.” She wasn’t crying, but he thought if he said anything or touched her she would be.

He watched as she followed the signs to the “end of the trail”. The sun was still high in the sky when she found a place to park, paying the fees, and sat behind the wheel. “We made it. Technically, we’re here. There’s an official sign, and I guess we should take pictures.”

“Tasha. Please talk to me.”

“I didn’t want it to end.”

He couldn’t be sure what exactly she might mean, but his heart pounded in his chest as he hoped she meant with him and not the road trip of her dreams. Surely, she wasn’t so caught up in her dream destination that it was as hard for her to end it as it was for him to think about leaving her.

“Tasha, my beautiful Tasha.” He turned in his seat to face her, “You have to stop me if I’m off base here, because I’ve made gestures, suggestions, which you’ve all but dismissed. I’m not ready for it to be over.”

“You mean you want to try?”

“I want to do more than fitness training check-ins once a week. I don’t just want you to come in January to be with Steve on a flight. I want you to be here. I want to do that California itinerary I suggested, and I don’t necessarily want to include Steve. I want to see you between now and January if you can get away. I want _you._

“It’s not fair to uproot you right now just because we feel something. I’m willing to add _long distance relationship_ to the list of things I have to talk to my therapist about; and… if you have time before you go, I’d like to make the trip to Stanford take two more days instead of just one. Let’s take this baby on the 101, cruise the coast, and hole up early for hours of sex and watching the sunset together.”

“I like your plan. I want what you suggest.” She sighed, “James, is that wrong? I’ve been beating myself up over taking advantage of you. Do you think we could have this?”

“I hope so. I really want to try. As for taking advantage of me, I may have spent the last two years in a self-imposed prison, but I think it’s time to live. If I choose to make this change, if we do this thing together, it could be really good. If there’s anything I’ve learned this week besides how much I want to have you in my life, it’s that life’s not about where we’re going; it’s about how we get there.”

“Yes James. Yes to everything.” she smiled before hesitantly asking “So, pictures?”

“I promise I won’t roll my eyes.”

Natasha grabbed Bucky by the neck of his shirt, “You’d better not. That’s part of our original deal.”

Bucky popped a kiss on the side of her mouth and she held his shirt firm, keeping him from moving away, she kissed him with all of the energy that had consumed her as the miles and the hours ticked down and he returned the desperate energy, kissing her, sealing the deal, starting his life.

 


End file.
